Veela surprise
by borderlinecrazy
Summary: Harry's sick of being the savior. This time, he isn't; Draco is. Only problem? He's dying because his parents tried to make him human when he was really a Veela. Surprise! Suddenly becoming a magical creature might just kill you. HP/DM slash. mpreg
1. prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all.

**Prologue**

Far worse than just an enter-national magical incident, this had created an enter-species magical incident, one that could easily bring about a world-wide and species-wide war. Britain and not just wizarding Britain either, could not handle another war so soon after the last. Frankly, the idea was a disaster, of apocalyptic proportions, especially as the last, and only, Veela-Wizard war … wizards lost. And that war hadn't been right on the heels of another war, with all their forces weakened, like this one would be.

So, when the Veela council demanded to see the entire Wizengamot, well, the Ministry of Magic jumped all over that idea, and opened up their metaphorical vaulted doors wide. When they declared that the meeting be opened to leader from other magical races, so that other magical beings with treaties with wizards might also be re-negotiated, they were less than thrilled. But, it was reluctantly allowed on the condition the Veela, and not Wizards, bring them, and since it was Britain, not the world, any treaties would only effect as such. The ministry did NOT want to further damage foreign relations with other wizard nations, not now, not when they'd just begun their recovery.

They'd also insisted upon having Aurors as security for all the various diplomats. Which was exactly what lead to this... Ron, foaming at the mouth, again, while his wife calmly tried to explain to him and their mutual best friend what to expect and a bit of history of why a man in the hospital was such an important 'incident.' And, why – apparently – the Veela council was ready to declare war over this one man.

"Harry, did… she just say what I thought she said?" He really should be used to Hermione discovering strange and unbelievable facts by now. But, that gaping expression never did get old!

"Yes, I did. The Weasley/Malfoy feud was caused by the Weasley family – and led to the Veela/Wizard war, which led to the Veela treaties and laws. Now, may I explain why?" She asked, exasperated. Hermione, not surprisingly, had become a teacher. It was what she always did best, but she also researched, constantly. So, she had been given a position at the Ministry as a researcher, when school wasn't in session. Right now, she was aiding them in their preparations for the upcoming diplomatic negotiations.

Harry and Ron, well, they were both getting a technically illegal briefing about an assignment they hadn't yet received. Secrets… politics were all about secrets, even now, especially in the magical world. Harry was heartfelt sick of secrets.

"Apparently, Malfoys have Veela ancestry. One of your ancestors accidentally killed the spouse of the second son of the Head of the Malfoy line, and since they were of a Veela mating-pair, the son also died. He was pregnant, with twins. The Malfoys considered it murder, and demanded a formal apology and reparations for the loss of four members of their family. Well, Ron, you know what your family's temper is like – you're a prime example!"

Ron hemmed and hawed, and looked embarrassed. He did have more than his fair share of temper, and judgmental fits; he'd just been having the beginnings of one a second ago!

"The Weasleys refused, so the Malfoys cursed them with ever increasing poverty upon each successive generation until either the line extinguished, went bankrupt, or finally apologized. Apparently, they thought it was fitting as Weasleys seemed to care more about their money and pride than family and people's lives."

Ron snorted; like Malfoys cared about family more than – wait! "They caused the curse on my family? They're the reason we're poor?"

"Ron, that curse has obviously been broken; look how successful the joke shop is, how well you're doing in your job, and Percy's political career, not to mention Bill's job at Gringott's! Besides, even if it was still active, to cancel it would only take an apology from a single member of the family. That's hardly difficult, right?" She rolled her eyes; of course Malfoys were still always wrong and the source of all that was bad to Ron. While he'd grown in many ways, in so many more he was still, and would always be, the silly immature brat she'd fallen in love with years ago.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Well, he still didn't like Draco, and still felt he'd been a right prat the majority of their youth, this did make the whole 'some are better than others' crap he'd spewed at first meeting seem a bit more understandable. Stupid, but understandable.

Wait – Malfoy, who was terrified of most magical creatures, and was raised with only the most racist prejudices imaginable about mixing muggle or magical creature blood or anything really, with wizard to dilute the so-called purity, was himself not a pure-blood, but a mixed, of Veela heritage? What he wouldn't have given to have known this back when they were still students at Hogwarts so he could have lorded that fact over the insufferable git! Who knows what might have changed; Valdy might've had one less death-eater family to play with and the losses might not have been so bad. _And if wishes were horses, beggars_ would ride; he reminded himself bitterly. What ifs and what could have beens could run forever; but the past was past and could not change. Now was for the future.

Ron put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Neither he nor Hermione knew exactly what he was thinking, without reading someone's mind who could know another's thoughts? But, they knew that expression well enough, and offered their love and comfort freely and completely. Then, he blinked.

"Wait, 'Mione, I think Dad may have broken it – remember when Lucius sic'd the Ministry on us for Muggle artifacts? They argued a bit, and Dad said he didn't even remember the start of the feud but to forgive and forget, and he was sorry for our part in it. That must have done it!" He grinned, widely.

"I think that would, Ron." She said slowly, thoughtfully.

"So, what does their feud have to do with some guy in 's causing an inter-species and inter-national incident?" Harry was nothing if not practical.

"Well, from what I could find, and there wasn't much, really – it's quite old, records were terrible shape, some nothing more than ashes, really,"

"Hermione!" Both men simultaneously shouted. She flushed, and looked down at the floor, ashamed. She really had tried to work on her habit of running off on tangents, really.

"It has to do with their origins as a species, and how they separated from the other descendants of the Gorgon sisters."

Harry blinked. "Gorgon descendants?"

"Well, muggles got it a bit wrong, but the three Gorgon sisters were each cursed, and their curses passed to their children – either their natural children or adopted. Three new species were created as result – the Harpies, the Lamia, and the Sirens. All three species have two things in common: their dark and deadly heritage, and no men." Ron, surprisingly, was the one who answered that. He looked really pleased, too. Then, confused. "But, what's that got to do with Veela?"

"It turns out that the goddess who was angered into cursing them gave each descendants'' species a chance to redeem themselves, and that's where Veela and Merfolk came from. I didn't find a split from Lamia with males, yet." She frowned, that was something she'd need to look farther into. Later. Right now, the Veela problem was the priority.

Harry looked confused. "So, Veela came from Harpies, which made them stop being Dark creatures? But, shouldn't they then have men; that's what you meant, right?"

Ron also now looked confused. "Right, Veela are only women."

"No. Ron, Harry – they have had men!" Hermione looked excited, as she leaned in. This was the secret that caused the war, and the Veela treaties and laws; the source of so much secrecy from the species about themselves. "That's what the war was about!"

Harry keyed in. It was now time to listen closely.

"They did something; I'm not sure what," her face scrunched up a bit in frustration, "but it bought their 'pardon,' and men were created. The ones whom didn't want to have to do with the new members of their race stayed separate, and stayed Harpies. The ones who embraced the changes became Veela. But, the males were rare, and for whatever reason, began to disappear, leaving Veela a race of women dependent on wizards to survive. The war started because the pregnant male who died was the first male Veela in several centuries. His children may have been able to set the Veela free of their dependence on wizards, make them a truly independent species! The Veela believed they were being forced into a parasitic existence, and blamed wizards for taking their chance at freedom."

"The man in the St. Mungo's, it's Draco, and he's a Veela, isn't he?" Harry put it all together, and really, he was a bit depressed. Why, just once, why couldn't his life be any simpler?

"What? Harry, you've got to be – Malfoy, a Veela? Even if some of his ancestors were, really? Malfoy?" Ron, yet again, proving his heritage, was in a full-on rant mode.

She smiled sadly at Harry, watching him down a glass of firewhiskey. Then, turning to look straight at her husband, "Yes, Ron. He's right. And, the Veela council is furious."

"Why? It's MALFOY." As if that explained away his disbelief and unconcern about a fellow, well, not quite human, being.

"Because he was born Veela but somehow it was suppressed, and now that whatever was done to him to block it has been undone, he's being forced to change into what he should have always been, and it's killing him."

"Let him!"

"Ron!"

"No, Harry, just let him go. I'll tell him the rest at home later, when he's calmed." She smiled that sad smile Harry'd seen all too often lately on his oldest female friend's face, and she leaned back into her chair, taking a drink of her butterbeer.

Harry broke the companionable silence after a moment. "Will he really die?"

"I don't know, Harry. No one does; no one really knows what exactly was done to him or how to help him." She gestured to the slim file she'd brought with her. "That's got some of the notes from the healers, but, really, at this point it's all guesswork. They've put him under a status spell until more can be figured out, and a team of unmentionables has been assigned to try to find out. They're interrogating Snape's portrait and digging through Lucius's papers, and I think a petition for Narcissa's memories has been filed. But, Harry, the Veela are already calling for her to be killed. Lucius is already dead, so nothing can be done to him, but under the current law, they most certainly DID interfere with a Veela, intentionally, and they can have her killed."

That hurt him; she'd known it would, that's why she'd made sure it was her he heard it from and not some stranger. Narcissa may have been a death eater, and may have been an evil witch responsible for more pain, suffering, and death than any cared to think about, but she'd risked her life for Harry at the end. Saved Harry. And she had done it just for the words he'd spoken about her child. Now, whatever they had done, and Harry was sure it had been done to save Draco, was killing him. And, she was going to be killed for it.

"No." He didn't even hear the soft whispered word slip passed his lips.

Hermione closed her eyes. It was hard, so hard; Harry deserved to have a life, burden free. Yet, just like everyone else in his life, she was taking that from him. Placing the burdens on him. Sometimes, she hated her life.

"Harry, they think he's some kind of savior for their race, or he could be. They're furious, they're saying we, wizards and witches, purposely kept him from them. Kept their chance at being whole, independent, and not a symbiotic species, from them on purpose. They want to declare war. And, this time, if they do, they'll be bringing every other magical being race against us, Harry – and they'd be right to." She took a calming breath, as Harry just looked at her. "We don't treat them as equals, you know that. House elves are slaves by treaty. Goblins, while allies, have very few rights, and outside of Gringott's, how many do you see? Centaurs are forced to keep to certain areas, and are mistreated and mistrusted because they don't want to share their private secrets with us… the list goes on and on, Harry, and you know it."

He did. He even agreed with her; to a point. But, h most certainly did not want to ever, ever, see war again. Not ever. What did that have to do with him, though?

"You're an Auror, and as the Head of the lines Potter and Black, have a seat on the Wizengamot. You'll definitely be there. I left you a copy of the Veelas' letter of demands, too. Please, Harry, be a voice of reason. You can help everyone, I know you can, and I'll keep looking. We'll save him, just keep them from doing anything drastic!"

Be a voice of reason? Riiiiight. Like people in authority ever really listened to Harry; even now he was just a lowly grunt. Too famous for his own good, he mostly did desk work, going polyjuiced or charmed for the very, very, very rare outside assignment. Being an Auror when you were the savior of the wizarding world was not what it was cracked up to be.

Frankly, he had been rather sick of it. Before today, he'd begun thinking of quitting and looking into other possible careers. Anything, really. He'd heard, oh, about a year ago, that Malfoy'd started a magical furniture business. His efforts with the cabinets had sparked something, he guessed. When he heard, he'd had to go in and look.

The shop was very open, classy, and free of dust. The furniture, ranging from bedding to office to kitchen and living, from wooden to metal and glass, and everything in between, was varied and well placed. He'd even spied one carved jade coffee table. Very style imaginable, and almost very price range, seemed represented. Yet, somehow, the overall feel of the place had fairly screamed high class; odd, with the rather 'homey' pieces also showing.

He'd left as soon as the first spark of jealousy hit. He was the savior; Malfoy was the prat on the losing side. Yet, he was married, and had a great job. Harry… Harry was dumped at the altar by a bitter and alcoholic Ginny, and had a job that continually failed to meet the even eternally lowering expectations he had. Why did that rich, spoiled git always, always have so much better and why did Harry always have so much worse?

He suddenly realized he didn't want to help Malfoy. He didn't care if he died in the hospital. He didn't really want another war, but if there was one, this one really wasn't his responsibility. He was tired. He looked up to say something to Hermione, but she was gone. Flew'd back home to Ron and their kids, he guessed. He finished his drink, stood, and went to bed. He left the file sitting on the empty table.

Cursing, he got up, and went back to the file. He'd tried to sleep, he really had, but after a few hours of failing, he'd just given up. Reading it gave him lots of new things to think about, and new questions to ask. H rubbed his face, as he began to pen a letter to Hermione.

'_Mione,_

_You're one of the Unmentionables researching this case, aren't you? You don't have to answer, I know you can't, but I've suspected it for a while now anyway. This just sort of confirms it for me._

_Now, you said the historic Malfoy Veela that died was a male – and pregnant. The notes on Malfoy you gave me have some weird info on genetics, including quotes on muggle genetic research. In them, he's listed as "XXY" – and there are some very confusing guesses as to the importance to that. Please explain firstly, how a male could be pregnant. I was thinking some sort of spell or potion, but these weird references make me think I was wrong. I want to know what you think, 'Mione. Secondly, there's a brief jot in the margins about this being blocked. Why would that matter? Was this how a male could be pregnant?_

_I also saw his medical records. 'Mione, why would a bond break over this? And, how will his marriage bond breaking affect his health? (SPLATTER)_

'_Mione, did you see him? Was the damage really as bad as the report made it seem? Very bone in his body shattered, even his eardrums? That's over 200 bones, most of which are tiny! And they're not just broken, but shattered? Tendons ripped, muscles torn, and most of his internal organs ruptured, and many of them moving… how was he still alive to be put into stasis? His condition sounds worse than all the tortures I've survived combined! If even half of this is real, 'Mione, letting him die would be a mercy._

_How can anyone save him?_

_Do you even really want to?_

_Do you expect me to? How? How, 'Mione?_

_I owe Narcissa a life-debt because of him, 'Mione. But, if she did this to him, I don't know that I can argue for her to try to save her. How could anyone do this to their own child? This is far worse than anything the Dudleys ever… (BLOT)_

_(INK DRIBBLE)_

_The Veela's letter, or declaration of intent, is pretty straightforward. Too straightforward, really, for something in politics. All they're asking for is Narcissa, and Malfoy; if h lives. It seems like they want to try to take him from St. Mungo's and revive him themselves. Do you think they will have a better chance? If he dies, though … they're very blunt about holding the wizarding world responsible. Is he really that special? If he was born male, can't others be?_

_Looking forward to answers,_

_Harry_

He rubbed his face, and sighed. It was way, way too late to send it now. That's why he'd written rather than just flew'd in the first place. He'd call an owl for it after the sun rose. For now, he was going to give sleeping another shot.


	2. answers

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all. No matter how much I wish I did.**

**Answers**

Harry missed Hedwig. Honestly. He had several owls in his owlery now, but none of them were true familiars, as Hedwig had been. They were service animals; fed, housed and kept for work and that's all. Bonding with them just did not seem right somehow. These were the sad reflections he pondered sipping tea, and waiting for responses to his missives from earlier that morning.

He'd finally quit his job. Finally! By owl, no less. Ron would flip his lip when he found out, but… well, at least he was doing what Hermione asked and taking up his seat. He didn't have to attend ANY function unless "full attendance required" was called – not bloody often; that. He could attend any he wished, though, including the upcoming magical creature diplomatic treaty revision meeting. He could make Hermione happy; and then he would find something to make him happy. He hoped.

Six owls swooped in the open window, flinging their bundles and winging straight out again. Red. Niiiiice. He hadn't had a howler in the longest. He opened that first, just out of curiosity.

**HARRY JAMES POTTER! What the **_**BLOODY**_** HELL do you think you're doing? Quitting? Without even talking to me about it? Telling me? You're oldest friend? **_**YOU'RE PARTNER?**_** You had better have good reasons for this, and I want to hear them IMMEDIATELY! You're coming over to talk to us about it tonight!  
>TONIGHT!<br>**_PTTTTTTTHBBBBBBBBBBB!_

After it finished blowing the world's sloppiest raspberry ever, the thing shredded itself in a shower of red paper and sparks. Harry laughed.

He picked the odd piece of paper out of his drink, and then leisurely began to sort through the remaining mail. A few more owls swept in and out, leaving their bundles behind. HE was popular this morning; he hadn't been this popular since his third month as an Auror. _Fan mail. Fan mail. Junk. Fan Mail. Ahhhh, Kingsley – this I'll want to read. Fan mail. The Prophet – me, front page again? What did I do this time? _He frowned. The picture was old, he'd gotten better at hiding from photographers – Colin was good for something! But, still, this probably explained the large influx today. He'd better read the story now, and finish sorting later – the earlier to start damage control, if needed (it's the Prophet; it'd be needed!)

The picture, was of his induction ceremony into the Auror program, smiling and shaking hands with Kingsley. The words, screaming in bold across the top, the headline that explained the pile still growing as owls were still swinging by, "Wizard Savior resigns Aurors! Taking seat in Wizengamot! New day for Wizards Everywhere?" _Oh, crap._

It was barely 8 in the morning, and he already needed a drink; maybe he'd stayed with Ginny too long. Her habit of reading the morning paper and getting pissed instead of breakfast was starting to rub off on him. He removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. Maybe he was just a bit bitter and cynical. Cynical. HA! Sounds so… Slytherin. He felt more and more as if he should have been there all along; he was more Slytherin each day that passed. Surprisingly, something he'd noticed in work, as he was forced to fill out paperwork for the more active members, the most arrests, especially undercover arrests, went to former Slytherin Aurors. Apparently, being inherently sneaky and cunning helped with undercover work, hiding and keeping up disguises.

Since Ron wanted to 'talk,' or rather, yell, maybe he'd convince him to go to that new strip joint on Knockturn Alley? Witches and wizards were humans too, turns out, and had most of the same perversions (and a few extras, actually) as muggles. But, witches were much more creative at stripping than muggle women – they could change their outfit magically between their twists, turns, and writhing moves. They could adjust size, color and coverage with a seductive wave of their hand – strippers HAD to master wandless magic. And the pole work! After all, they could magically defy gravity, so the moves were easier, making much more complicated stuff possible…

He shuddered, remembering his last trip… they'd allowed a witch and wizard show, and the duo had all but had sex on stage for everyone to see. Well, mostly on stage – they also floated on air, rode their brooms (he'd never before thought of having sex on broom before; now it was one of his favorite fantasies!), wound around the poles and each other. It had been the most erotic experience of his life – and he hadn't even been a part of it! That night, after he'd made it home, he'd wanked, and wanked, and wanked… and to his horror and shame, it was more to the memory of the wizard than the witch. The next morning, in between bouts of regret, vomit, and anti-hangover potions, he'd come to the conclusion he was bi.

He hoped the wizard was there again.

Right! Back to the mail! Fantasies later!

Kingsley was very polite, professional, in his acceptance of Harry's resignation. Harry suspected the man knew it was coming. Well, he had been expressing his frustrations over desk work more and more often lately, so, reasonably, of course he knew it was coming.

Most of what Harry termed 'fan mail' could just as easily be hate mail, especially with what the bloody privacy raiders had run in their morning edition, but he wasn't about to read any of it to find out. He just put it all in his fireplace, and figured he'd been given free tender for a while.

As he continued working his way through his pile, and a slowly developing migraine, might want a potion for that before it became a full-on one, he discovered Hermione's response. Yes! This was the most important letter of the morning! ANSWERS!

_Harry,_

_Of course I can't answer that. If it was 'yes,' I'd still be ordered to say 'no,' if it was no and I said so, you've already said you wouldn't believe. So, how can I answer? Just follow your own heart and know no matter what I do or don't do, I'm always the same 'Mione that nearly died for you, went to war with you, and asked for you instead of Ginny to be by bride's maid. Ron still laughs that you were willing to wear a dress, you know!_

_Ok, time to answer some of your more serious questions. Frankly, Harry, I have no idea. There are potions, spells, rituals, and various combinations of the above from the purely magical stand point for same-sex childbirth. The most obvious I would suppose would be nine months of polyjuice. We know from a certain fake teacher that enduring the foul brew for long term *is* possible. You're right though, I don't think that was how the historic Malfoy happened. I think it's genetic._

_I know you grew up in a muggle home, like I did, Harry, but I also know the Dursleys did everything they could to hurt you, including preventing you from receiving any normal sort of education. I'm going to assume that means you know almost nothing about genetics. Let's start with that, then shall we? Don't worry, Harry, I'll keep it simple, and not cover anything more complex than one of my students could handle – although the topic most certainly could get that way! Basically, humans have 26 chromosome pairs, one pair from each parent, which are received randomly. The very end pair is either XX (female) or XY (male). Now, sometimes, due to either flawed eggs or sperm in the respective parent, a person ends up which one or more extra 'X' chromosomes, creating a XXY, or XXXY, and so on. Most of these boys end up with feminine characteristics, and nearly all of them are sterile, although the muggle medical field has started creating treatments that make fatherhood a possibility. That, and the other details of the many different genetic disorders associated with these pairings, however, is getting a little deeper than you need._

_Now, magical genetics is a little more complicated. Wizards and witches have and additional chromosome paring before the gender pair – the one allowing for magic. It arises from neither parent in cases of muggleborn, but strictly from magic itself. In cases of magical parentage, it may come from either, both, or neither parent. Magical creatures may have more, less, or the same number of chromosomes, and may have wildly different ways of passing them from the human method. In the cases of Veela, not much is known except that full Veela females with wizard males always birth either fully human wizard males, wizard males with carrier-only traits of Veela (the capability for Veela-based off-spring but no other Veela traits), fully Veela females, and half-Veela females. Half-Veela females with wizard males birth fully human wizard males, fully human witch females, and half-Veela females. There are never any splits beyond 'half'- no 'one-quarters' or less; it's always half or none. No one knows why._

_However, the healer's at St. Mungo's seem to think that since Veela are all female, and Draco has the XXY, from a carrier family, that what happened is his Veela IS fully female, which is how his ancestor could carry children, and suggests he might have the ability to as well. He is also, simultaneously, a male wizard Veela carrier. So, he has Veela genes and traits, even though he's human, on all of his genes, including the human ones. That means if he and a female Veela partnered, the resultant children, regardless of gender, would be fully Veela. His sons from such a mating would be the first ever true male Veela. _

_I suspect that's what the Veela council is after, of course. They want Draco, so they can have their males; regardless of what he, himself, might want._

_Plus, there's the fact that he's designed for carrying children, not fathering them – his human male potion is still sterile. Probably. Well, with magic, and a first time ever documented, okay, second – but in all fairness, the only documentation of that on was that the man was pregnant and then he died before giving birth! Regardless, my point is – I don't really know anything about this situation, and neither does anyone else, including the Veela council. He might not be able to give them what they want, especially the way they want._

_About the marriage bond, frankly Harry, that's another great big 'I have no idea.' As you know, Ron and I chose to marry, and not to bond. When I researched it at the time, it just seemed too risky. Fusing our magical cores, and dying together sounds wonderful, but if something happens, where does it leave the children? _

_I'm not sure which bond they used, either, which also makes a world of difference. Pansy was out for a week, and when she found out the bond was broken, she thanked, and I quote "All the sixteen Gods and Goddesses for this MIRACLE! We're free!" When she left, her boyfriend picked her up. Somehow, I do not think Malfoy will be too sad to find he is now, in effect, divorced. Since she did not stay to explain, nor have any tests run, I have no way of knowing if this in any way affected her health other than putting her in a mini-coma for a week, nor if it affected her magic at all. Without that information, how can I hazard any guesses about the effect it will have on him?_

_Yes, Harry, those notes were accurate. Wizarding pictures were a part of the full file, but I didn't think you needed to see those. I'm still having nightmares myself, and you've had more than your fair share of that affliction; no need for any more of them. It might be a mercy to let him die, Harry, it might. But, if the healers can limit the suffering he's in, and somehow save him(and it looks very likely they can), that would be a blessing beyond mercy, don't you think? How many people get a true chance to become a totally different person, a very real chance to completely start over new? With everything we've all been through, wouldn't it be wonderful to see someone really be able to truly put everything behind them as someone completely new and totally unrelated to that past?_

Harry stopped reading for a moment, and setting his glasses on his flooded table, rubbed his eyes. It was almost 10; he'd been at the mail for a while, nearly half an hour with this letter alone. He knew, though, why Hermione wanted him to help, now. It wasn't for Malfoy. It was for him; she wanted Harry to save himself – to move on. He had tried; he'd moved out of that horrid house of so many bad memories (Grimmauld Place lived in his painful memories of his dead God-father, and the home of the lost members of the Order of the Phoenix), he'd gotten a job (and just today, quit said job), he'd made himself a life. Had he ever really moved on though? He wasn't so sure it was possible; how could he ever really forget, especially when his past was still messing up his life every day (hence why he quit his job)?

He, supposed, like her, he would like to see someone be able to do that. He felt a little sad, and more than a little bitter, that the someone in question was his old rival rather than him. Once again, Malfoy, who already had so very much, once again, had everything he did not and that he wanted. Damn.

He stood, glasses, perched properly on his nose once more, and walked out of his breakfast room, into the kitchen. HE started brewing fresh tea, as his had long gone cold. It would be a little while before the water boiled, then he would have to let the leaves steep, and then his tea must cool a bit so to not burn off his tongue. He'd get back to Hermione's letter then, with his fresh tea. For now, he let his mind wander over the implications of what he'd read so far, while he went about his mindless tasks.

_So, he's divorced, and Pansy's got a boyfriend. Certainly not a love-match then. Wonder how the blond git will feel when he finds out he's been cuckold, or does he already know? I wonder if she hurt him like Ginny hurt me, or if he really is such a cold bastard that no one's ever touched his heart, like we always thought he was. Does he know he might be sterile? Does he know he isn't human? I wonder how he'll take finding out he's part GIRL! _Harry laughed out loud, nearly burning himself, as he pictured the revulsion on Malfoy's face.

It was easy enough to do, with all the sneers and smirks and disdainful expressions he'd seen over the years; not to mention the pure disgust when Ron hex himself with slugs… Yes, revulsion was all too easy to picture, no matter how Malfoy's looks might have changed in the nearly 6 years since they'd last seen each other. Heartbreak, that would have been much harder, not that Harry even bothered.

His thoughts wandered on, and began to include more pleasant things, and all in all, he was in a rather better mood once his ministrations were concluded. He settled, a little unwillingly, back into his chair, blowing on the still steaming cup as he once again picked up his missive. It only took a moment for him to find the place he'd left off, and then he was right back in it.

_As to whether anyone can save him, well, Harry – that is the question. I'm planning another visit to the healers for an update later this week, but right now you've got most of the information I have. I'm still not sending you those pictures. Nightmares, Harry – just from the pictures. I'm dreading seeing the real thing; I know I have to, eventually. _

_The current plan is to let loose one part of the stasis spell at a time, and only for very brief stretches of time. Then, the parts that are freed can run through whatever part of the changes they're making without killing him, or hurting him too badly. It will slow the process down and allow the healers to administer potions, spells, charms, use runes, and even administer muggle medicine as needed to make the transition smoother, less painful, less dangerous, and increase his odds of survival._

_I don't know what they picked as a starting point, or even how they choose to separate it – after all, so very much of the anatomy and physiology of any living thing is all so interrelated. Even dividing it for the purposes of study in texts is difficult, and involves discussing other parts to fully grasp the part you're currently discussing. It's fascinating, really, Harry – absolutely fascinating. I'm really looking forward to reading the notes of all the changes._

Harry snorted. She might feel badly for his suffering, and she might be worried about the chaos that his life was about to become, and terrified about the prospect of war – but, she still had the same inquisitive mind, and loved to learn. Give her a puzzle or something to study, and watch her whole world light up! That didn't diminish in any way the truth of her feelings about the situation; no, both were completely real and completely truthful Hermione – just different parts of her very complex soul.

_Of course I want Draco Malfoy to be saved! And I think the healers are doing a fabulous job! He is dying, though – and if he is pulled out of stasis completely instead of the carefully controlled, timed, partial removals currently being done, he probably will die. In fact, even with this plan, if too much is done too fast he'll still die, or if he stays in stasis too long, then when he is taken out, and the time catches up to him, he'll suffer from extreme dehydration and starvation and die. It's all risky. But, it is worth the risk. _

_I want you to try to prevent the Veela council from taking him out of St. Mungo's. If you can't prevent it totally; at least try to stall them until he's finished healing. I think this is his best chance._

_I don't know what to say about Narcissa Malfoy. I don't know that she even definitely had a hand in this – I wouldn't put it past the foul woman, but neither would I put it past Lucius Malfoy to have done in on his own without even consulting her. He was that evil. Get her in front of the Wizengamot, __Veritaserum__ her, Pensieve her, do whatever it takes; short of Crucio-ing her, to find out for certain. Then decide from there._

_I think I've pretty much answered everything now, that I can, Harry. I'm also sure I've left you with more questions, but, as I've said more than once, there's so much I don't know. Until he either dies or gets better; I don't think I will, either._

_The only thing left to say is – fix your quill! There were almost as many ink spots as words!_

_All the love I can spare my husband and kids for you, brother of my heart,_

_~Hermione Granger-Weasley_

He leaned back in his chair. Lots to think about. The meeting hadn't yet been officially called so he could take his time. A quick spell told him it wasn't yet time for Ron's usual lunch break. He smiled to himself. He'd finish the rest of the junk mail disposal, then sic his lawyer on the gossip columnist, and by then it'd be time. Ron always went the same place for lunch when not on assignment, so flewing would be easy, and he knew just what to say to talk him into that strip joint… tonight might not be so bad…


	3. trials

Disclaimer: I only own my pj's. not my fanfiction source materials.

This one's short because the next one will be LONG.

**Trials**

With starvation a worry, the very ill Veela's treatment had taken on rotating shifts of healers, determined to get him out as soon as possible. When one set exhausted themselves or finished with one healing regimen, the next team jumped in. It was extremely complex. The broken bones healed first in the same skeletal structure as originally, but with an entirely new crystalline deposit structural form. Plus, the marrow-filled hollows of mammalian bones seemed replaced in the majority of the bones – air sacs; like birds. Lighter, and more flexible, and if not for the new structure, they would also have been significantly weaker.

His lungs had doubled, muscles reoriented and increased, organs shifted, moved, and restructured themselves. New organs also appeared in places, some obvious ones like a cloaca splitting off from the rectum to a newly formed uterus with fallopian tubes, ovaries, and all the trimmings. No doubt, Hermione was smug when she read that report; she'd been right again. He was a carrier. But, some of the organs were less obvious at first, and took some real thinking to figure out what they were and why they had appeared. One such example was the gizzard, the newest addition to Draco's much more complex digestive system. Since he had not lost his teeth, the need for additional crushing power for food was confusing, but, well, answers would probably come when he awoke. Maybe.

Then, just when healers had taken him out of stasis, and fed him his first real meal in nearly a week, his bones started breaking again. Back into stasis he went! This time, their shape and placement altered, and he gained new ones. No one knew if his wings would be permanent, or like 'normal,' if you can call a magical race of female-only birdlike humanoid seductresses normal, magically retractable. It was kind of like no one knew if the answer to that question had been manipulated by his 22 years as a full human under magical duress. He was the ultimate puzzle.

With his collar bones, scapulae, and spinal column, not to mention his rib cage, radically altered to allow for the secondary set of shoulder joints for the new wings behind his arms, and falling dramatically down his back, the muscle, tendon, and other tissue reorganization began. Then after three days of only lifting long enough to feed him, he was yet again released from stasis. He lasted a whole two days this time, and then his skin began to fall off. This time, the healers were not fast enough – the new skin, softer, much more pale, and soft as baby's down (which made a lot of sense upon close evaluation) had grown before the stasis spell could be placed back upon him. When checked, much of the difference was in the fact all the tiny, fine hair that covers every inch of every mammal's body (including humans) had been replaced by the feather-like avian equivalent.

Draco Malfoy was becoming much more bird than man.

He thanked God, twice, for not developing a beak.

He fainted when he was told about the cloaca.

Less than a day after 's declared him ready for release, the Wizengamot was ready to meet, with all the diplomats and dignitaries assembled that cared to be. Narcissa Malfoy was brought forth in chains.

Harry was sure, as he saw the drastically changed Draco for the first time, running towards his chained mother, to cuddle and comfort her; he was not the only person having particularly bad memory associations. This was far, far too similar to the Death Eater trials that took over the entire first year after Valdy's death. Good portion of the second year, too, actually…

Harry knew, he knew, he was going to hate and regret agreeing to this before the first hour was up. He did not think he would be able to survive the whole thing.

When it was announced that all the information found on how what had been done, and by whom, including any evidence relating to Narcissa, and any other still living witches or wizards, would be presented in trial form, against said witches and wizards, before beginning the renegotiations of the various treaties, Harry felt sick. This was a witch hunt – literally. Narcissa's guilt or innocence would probably not matter, nor would Draco's obvious devotion and total lack of blame or anger towards her. The Veela needed to teach a lesson, and she would be the sacrifice they would take.

He was going to fight for her.

He was also going to vomit copious amounts of firewhiskey. And damned if he wasn't going to find out what in hell's bad name happened to the hot wizard who had not made a return visit to the his new favorite hangout's center stage. Other wizards had appeared, and plenty of hot witches were always around – the one he'd been with still preformed frequently. But it just wasn't the same, and Harry had no idea why.

But, he'd be back there again tonight, when tonight's session was over. And, he wasn't going to leave this time until he knew who the mystery wizard was, and why he'd been gone, and when he would be back.

Even if he had to use his fame.


	4. tribulations

Disclaimer: If I owned any of my fanfiction source material, I wouldn't still be praying to win "Publisher's Clearing House."

Oh, and I told you this one would be long!

**Tribulations**

The room was massive, with a huge open floor, and tiered stadium seating all the way around. It was heavily charmed, so that anything spoken on the floor could be easily heard throughout the room, without any additional sonorous spells, or related charms. It had a small section to one side with two sets of tables and chairs behind matching post-and-rails. In the middle, was a table, with two chairs on one side, and a small chair slightly off to the same side, with a floating desktop-like appendage. That must be for the court recorder, to transcribe everything. This was different from when Harry'd been here with Hermione, years ago. Different, too, from the trials after the war – less militant, domineering, than both, he supposed. Yes, it felt more… relaxed. Safe. If a courtroom could ever feel safe…

A bit further down on the floor, was another, lower and smaller table, with a bowl that looked similar to a Pensieve, but with a few strange additions. Behind the table was one lone chair, carefully placed between bolts and shackle loops on the floor – to chain prisoners when it was prisoners seated there for their questioning. That sort of cancelled the safe feeling a bit. He looked closer at the odd bowl; it was hard to see from his seat, even with his glasses on.

On the side with the chair, the lip of the wide, long, and very shallow bowl had been warped, creating two deep grooves. In the middle, surrounded by the swirling clear liquid Harry knew better than to think of as water, was a single spinning ball of crystal. It wasn't anything as simple or common as clear quartz, either – without magic or visions spinning inside it, it already had swirls of color, reflecting in the water, playing rainbows across the rippling surface. It was beautiful. Harry wondered what it was.

The table also boasted a small array of vials and bottles; potions. Harry wasn't certain what all of them were, but it was a fairly sure thing at least one was Veritaserum. A podium materialized in the center of it all, covered with paper. Absolutely covered, the stack had to be dozens of reams thick. Harry was a little surprised it all appeared to be loose parchment; with that much paper, wouldn't scrolls be easier?

A woman, blond with blue eyes, must be the Veela who was handling the first part of this, approached the podium. She waved her hand, and the parchment scattered, each place in the many tiers of viewing seats receiving a single sheet. Harry grasped his, surprised. It appeared to be blank, but he knew better. He supposed he would just have to wait until everyone else had finished being seated, and the woman was ready to begin. She grimaced, and pulled a bag out from the underside of the podium. Digging her hand in almost to the elbow, despite the small size of the bag; familiar to Harry, whom had seen Hermione do the same thing with her enchanted handbag all too often. She pulled her hand out, and began tossing stones out. Like the parchment, every seat received one. Harry was intrigued.

Most of the seats were filled with witches and wizards; no surprises there. But, a fair number also had various and sundry other beasts and beings. He even saw a glowing cloud of tiny fairies clumped together in one seat, and three or four house elves a tier above and to the left of him. He was less surprised to find a ghoul and Gwarp sitting side-by-side. He knew Ghouls could make deals, and he knew Giants were less than thrilled with how wizards dealt with them. That had made it very easy for Voldy to win them, after all – Tom knew best how to exploit weaknesses. He was not surprised in the least to see several contingents of Goblins. They had always complained the most bitterly… and fought the most frequently. It would stand to reason they'd seen the most people.

One seat had what looked like a ferret; Harry knew it was a Jarvey once he heard the thing swearing fit to make a sailor blush. A tank, very opaque, and sloshing a bit, took up four seats on the opposite side of the amphitheater-like room. Merpeople? Maybe. Kappa, Leprechauns, Trolls, Red caps, and of course, flocks of Veela; it really looked like Vampires were the only things missing (he knew Werewolves were there, even if he couldn't tell them from the other witches and wizards) – and the Vampires were promised to appear later. He rubbed the back of his neck; this was going to be a nightmare.

The Veela in the center of the room looked around, pleased. The majority of the seats were filled, and people were filing in fast, rapidly filling the rest of the seats. All the parchment and stones had been placed. She was ready to begin.

Harry was surprised to see Hermione slide in beside him. "Shhh!" She poked him and gestured before he could ask just what, exactly, she was doing here. HE settled back in his chair, and waited. "I'm on the witness list, so they told me if I wanted I could be present for the entire trial." She whispered. "I think they offered that to everyone, but of course I had to accept! This is a once in a lifetime chance to learn all the secrets of the Veela! A chance to watch a new part of a species, or a species evolution, in the making. How could I miss that?" She was all but vibrating with excitement. Harry smiled; he understood completely.

"Welcome. Before I begin; I shall explain a few things for my esteemed audience, and of course, the many 'judges' within the court. The stones in front of you are charmed with a Sonorous spell, so you may speak to the assembly without needing to cast, and you may speak to those near you without disturbing everyone else. The parchment is because of the secrecy of these meetings; with very few exceptions everyone here will be under extremely tight oaths and charms for silence and privacy. This is non-negotiable as it will affect the Veela's ability to survive as a species. Any not willing to agree to these charms and oaths right now will have all of their memories wiped from the moment they learned anything about this until the time they walked through the door this morning. For some of the Healers on the case, I imagine that is quite a bit of time and knowledge."

Her voice was low and threatening; she was not meaning just removing the memories of the Veela and Draco's illness. She meant everything, including private family time, thoughts and dreams. There was a low buzz as many in the auditorium expressed outrage, but Harry understood, even if he didn't agree. It would be nearly impossible to go into someone's mind and separate out the memories wanted from everything else. It would have to be an all-or-nothing approach. And, when threatened, of course they would do what they had to for survival. Didn't everyone? Even he had gone before the dark lord once fully prepared to die, just so everyone else could survive. Group mentality.

"Tap the parchment once with your ring finger from your left hand, "she continued, over the noise of the crowd. She was not going to give anyone the chance to protest; it was accept or face the consequences, and the consequences had been named. "It will then tell you if you are an exception or not. If you then tap your name, it will explain why. Furthermore, should you be interested in someone else's state, to decide to discuss issues with them for example, hold your parchment while they tap it and it will be listed. Again, the reasons for the decision will be shown by tapping the name." She gave a tight, fake smile, and moved to one of the chairs. The podium vanished.

The noise level rose, as people, human and creature alike, all played with the parchments. Harry tapped his, and grimaced. Of course he was an exception; he was the bloody boy who lived. Would he ever be accepted for himself?

Hermione danced in her seat. She was an exception! "Look, Harry – I can talk about it! I won't have to give a Wizard's oath of silence, nor have to forget everything I've learned!" She tapped her name, wanting to learn why she'd been selected to hold such trust. Apparently, being a member of the Weasley family, of which Fleur had joined, was a plus. Being friends with Lupin (before he died) and staying a part of his son's life was a plus. But, the major thing was her work for House Elves, and attempts to free them. She always knew something good would come from forming the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare! Long live S.P. E.W.!

She showed her list to Harry, who noted absolutely nothing about good old Voldy at all anywhere on it, and curious, finally tapped his own name. His list, which both shocked him and warmed his heart, also had nothing directly to do with the war. He saved Fleur's younger sister once, was Teddy's Godfather, freed an Elf and joined S.P.E.W., was trusted by the centaur herd from the Forbidden Forest, saved the life of a hippogriff (he wasn't sure how they found out about that one) and both owed and was owed life debts with the Malfoy family. Well, the life debts were tied to the war, but he certainly had no desire to collect, and since he did technically die, they were technically voided… so the ones he owed also could not be collected. Which, knowing the Malfoys, was far more likely to be asked than the other way. He snorted. Of course, since a large part of this farce was over Draco Malfoy, they would take into account any debts of honor with him and his family, regardless of the validity of such debts.

He cleared it, just in time to hear the woman instructing the crowd of the oath. He watched the yellow/gold silver and white bands streaming throughout the room, twisting and tying onto each person. Those 'exceptions,' of which he was one, worked as witnesses. The spells used were harsh – variants of Wizards' Oaths, Unbreakable bonds, Magical Creature Bonds and the Fidelius charm, no one could speak, write, use signs, or even share via Occlumency, anything about what was discussed within this room (even if they learned it before entering or outside this room) with anyone whom was not currently within the room while currently within the room, nor could they bring someone in to eavesdrop.

There were a few other clauses as well, honestly they would have made old Mad Eye quite proud, but on the whole, it was very obvious it would be nearly impossible to share anything. And, should you find a loophole to allow telling secrets, due to the Unbreakable bond, you risked your life, due to the Magical Creature Bond you risked your soul's damnation, and due to the Fidelius Charm, there was a very good chance the person you risked so much to inform would never remember anyway, as the only person capable of secret sharing were the exceptions – as witnesses to the other parts of the spell, and secret keepers for that part. It was really a brilliant and complex piece of magic!

After it was finished, she stated the true trial portion would begin in the morning, and she, herself, would be the first witness. This would be so that any questions regarding the Veela council's culpability (Harry got Hermione to explain that) could be taken care of right off the bat. She also suggested one of the Aurors already in the room be the one to question her. Then, she began explaining the potions and magical device…

"This is a modified Pensieve, it works without having to rip the memories from someone's head, which cruelly takes a part of whom they are, and risks them never gaining it back, forever altering their very personalities. Instead, the person simply rests their fingers in the medium, and shares their essences, allowing their unconscious mind to be distilled across its flow, without separating. The crystal ball acts as a projector, showing what memories, dreams, and feelings are running through the sieve, sharing them with all whom would witness it." She smiled broadly, listening to the shocked and in a few cases, outraged cries from the audience. More than one person tried to use their stones, throwing questions her way, but sadly, as too many did so at the same time, it just created a clamor.

When the noise level had lowered sufficiently, she continued. "These potions are also variants. The normal truth serum, Veritaserum, can be deadly in high doses, and can be mentally damaging in people not entirely emotionally stable. This is especially true when questioning about emotional subjects. It can also be fought off, allowing for lies. Our version is much safer. It blends with a Calming Draught, to sooth fears, and makes a person more willing to share the truth. It also has most of the toxic elements removed, making it less poisonous." The entire Wizengamot and all the Aurors were very interested in her claims, including Harry. Hermione, as the only (as far as Harry knew) member of the Unmentionables present, was also on the edge of her seat with curiosity.

Harry was fairly certain she'd be getting all the details about the potions and the sieve, and possibly getting her own personal ones to test, before this was all over with.

"If you would like to take a bottle to test tonight before use tomorrow, it will be allowed." She offered, graciously, before continuing. "Additionally, I should like to explain just how the two can work together – you see, it is a task of the conscious mind to lie. The unconscious cannot, however, due to the conscious choice to lie, it can be suppressed. Both traditional Veritaserum and our version make it harder, thus making it easier when in the sieve for the true memories and feelings to be shown regardless of choice about spoken words. Ours, however, due to the calming nature, works better." She looked very, very smug at this last bit.

"Now, to allow those who wish to question me tomorrow plenty of time to familiarize themselves, I'm going to end here. If any have any questions for me about these supplies, or about their selection, or lack of selection, as an exception or to not be an exception to our privacy clauses, please feel free to stay to talk. Otherwise, I shall be here earlier, and ready. I hope all of you shall be as well." Her eyes, twinkling a la Dumbledore, she smiled and waved everyone out. Hermione, of course, twitching with as much curiosity as a cat, elected to stay. Harry also did. He wanted to know more about why he was picked; and how they knew about the damn life debts.

People, human and creature alike, began filing out, muttering and grumbling and sniping at each other as they went. An Auror popped into the tank, and a loud popping noise matched with a noticeable splash quickly followed. He or she had just apparated the Merpeople out of their tank, back to their home.

She dealt with most of the stranglers, either one at a time or in small groups, but always with privacy charms. Harry and Hermione hung back. When there was but two Aurors, whom were obviously waiting to learn about the potions and Pensieve, the woman gestured Hermione over. "I know you will be just as curious." And Harry was left outside the bubble, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently.

After an interminable time, the bubble was lifted, the two other left, holding parchment and potions, and Hermione walked back to Harry likewise burdened. The Veela took a breath; Harry wondered if she was trying to calm herself, and if so, what had her so stressed, and then joined them, pleasant smile returned to her face. "Hello, Harry. I am Nadine; it is a great pleasure to meet you. I assume you both wish to discuss your status as exempt?"

It was a long, unpleasant several hours later that finally found Harry home. He was changing, out of the formal robes from the meeting into tight, flashy club wear. 'Constellation' was opening in an hour, and he didn't want to be late! He was going to have some fun, enjoy himself and not dwell on unpleasant things. No dwelling! Bugger it all, he was not going to think about it anymore, not going to remember… bloody hell, he needed some firewhiskey and he needed it now.

When he apparated, landing just outside the dark, mahogany door with the looped red velvet line divides, he wasn't remembering Nadine's blatant bribe. No, he didn't care! He'd had ENOUGH with fate, enough with prophesy, he'd had enough! True love was a lie, and no one would ever be able to tempt him with the promise of any such creature as a soul mate, no matter how many 'specialized seers' they might have employed for that purpose.

He needed that drink, and maybe a lap dance. Now.

But, the door was still locked, barred, and the chair and bouncer conspicuously absent. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, as much from the need to keep his blood circulating as from nerves. He heard a cough behind him, and realized others had already begun lining up behind him. The club was likely to be packed tonight, then. Maybe something special was being planned?

Nadine's acidic annoyed tones as she blatantly insulted Hermione during the bribing process… he still couldn't believe they wanted him to try to use one of his remaining life debts to force Malfoy to go to France, to the main colony so the Veela council could bring him before their seers. Their reasoning was sound, he supposed, from what Nadine had told Hermione and him, he DID need to go, but really, honestly, couldn't they just ask the man? Did they really have to try to manipulate him and force him to follow their little plots? And, having been manipulated in just such ways already most of his life, did they really think Harry would go along with it?

He also knew though they'd been on opposite sides, Malfoy'd suffered to a lesser extent those same manipulations, too, so he was just as likely to react negatively and resentfully as Harry was. Harry had no desire whatsoever to be forced to deal with all the resultant hate. From what he remembered, Malfoy was plenty hateful enough without cause. The prickly bastardly git he'd be with cause… there was not enough alcohol in the world; nor strong enough memory charms.

Smoke swirled lazily as someone apparently lit a fag. Cancer sticks had even made an appearance in the wizarding world, shockingly. Especially after the American court cases nearly ten years ago – he'd been a kid, but even he'd heard about them. Smoking, nonetheless, was on the rise with witches and wizards using special charms as additional filters to safe guard their health. There were also potions, which if released to the muggle world (though that would break the statue of secrecy) could cure most tobacco related diseases from cancer, to COPD, to emphysema and heart disease. There were even potions, or so he'd heard, for tobacco related impotence!

But, regardless of the relative safety for magical kind, Harry personally despised the stuff. He also found it many smokers to be rather inconsiderate, though magical ones tended to be less so. The number of butts left littering the streets, for example, was considerably less amongst the population capable of vanishing them with a wave of their hands, than those less magically inclined. Nevertheless, it was one of his more prominent pet peeves, and he barely restrained his annoyance as more smoke drifted over him, polluting his air and leaving the less than pleasant smell on his cloths. Frowning with displeasure, he cast a cleaning charm and air purifying charm. He then raised a bubble type charm, similar to the bubble head charm that allowed for breathing under water, to block out future smelly irritants.

A quick glance at his watch, he'd bought and adapted one of those ones that runs on a person's biorhythms rather than batteries so it could be powered by a tiny amount of his magic and never be inaccurate nor die, told him he had another forty-five minutes.

It really was reasonable, really; if the whole feathers verses scales argument was the truth. Nadine had told them that not all Veela had soul mates; in fact most didn't even have a destined mate of the normal mate variety. That's why most of the literature available on Veela described them with reptilian-type wings – scaled, even though both potions masters and wand makers made routine demands for feathers from Veela wings for ingredients. Harry vaguely remembered Fleur bragging about the wand she used as having a feather from a relative, but he couldn't remember who… it was enough, though, for him to know the truth of the argument. Veela did come with two different types of wings.

And, if he could believe that, it was an easy jump to believe Nadine when she stated in completely no uncertain terms, the feathered ones had a soul mate. "Sadly," she told him, "it is just as hard for a Veela to find a single soul on this planet teeming with literally billions of potential partners, as it is for anyone else. But, a feathered one will die without that one soul. Any other Veela, as long as they bond with someone before they reach 25, it's fine. So, they have time and options. But, the feathered ones… they have only one option, and very little time."

That was why the seers. The council wanted to protect the few Veela they had, and since not all Veela, not even all winged Veela, had visions of their mates to help find them, they did what they could. The group of seers wasn't all; either. They also, apparently, had courting rules for weeding out suitors – mostly for those who did not have a set mate, but also for the ones who did, and even the seers failed to locate.

She made it quite clear that had his heritage not been blocked, Malfoy would have either had visions, or been sent to the seers for them to attempt visions for him, as soon as he reached his majority. She also made it equally clear he would have been dead by now under normal circumstances without having found his mate. So, in this one part of his nature, the unnatural suppression of his true being, was, apparently maybe a good thing. It was also, in her opinion, just as likely a horrid thing as it increased the chances his mate would not be found, had already died, or had already married or was otherwise unable to bond with him.

In other words, it may have in the short term, lengthened his lifespan, but in the long term, it dramatically decreased the chances of him having a full one. When Hermione asked, Nadine had rather bluntly given him less than two years "at the absolute maximum" – including the time he'd already spent in the hospital, and the time this trial was going to take. Harry was really, really ready for that drink now. Honestly!

The bouncer was setting up his chair, looking nonchalantly at the still-growing line. Less than twenty minutes, now. Harry was not going to think about Nadine, or Malfoy, or his day, or any of the rest of it, not at all, he was going to relax and have some fun! He deserved it! Maybe the mystery wizard will have finally come back. He needed to talk to the bouncer about talking to the owner…

He approached, cautiously. Amusement openly slid through the huge man's light brown eyes. When Harry leaned in to whisper, the amusement deepened, briefly, and then was replaced by surprise. He'd no doubt been expecting a bribe for early admittance, not a request for a private chat with the owner – at his or her convenience, of course. He smiled, and an eyebrow twitched as he considered his options. The sides of his mouth spasmed in a seconds-brief flash of a smile; he'd decided then. A quick nod was all the indication he gave of his choice, before the man stood, and walked back inside.

When he returned, the posts were moved, chancing the ropes arrangements, and opening the door wide, he began allowing people in. A fee and a waver signed for non-members, a flash of a badge for members. Harry, only slightly familiar with the proceedings, as he'd never arrived so early before, thus never really had seen others entering, watched curious. He wondered about how, exactly, one received one of those badges. After a few minutes, the still silent bouncer handed Harry a small envelope and waved him inside. He had only waited until the crowds had thinned enough no one else could see the exchange.

Harry knew better than to read it in the open, so pocketing it, and taking a steadying breath, he went in.


	5. night

Disclaimer: I barely own my natural hair color, so I obviously don't own anything else.

It was the owl dropping a howler on Harry's face that woke him, honest; not the howler setting itself off to the thumping tempo of his roaring hangover. The fact he was, apparently, going to miss today's session did not both him at all. Okay, a little, but not too much, not with this much pain. What in Merlin's name had he gotten up to last night?

Hermione's letter informing him that Malfoy was back in stasis at St. Mungo's so today's session was cancelled was largely ignored. Harry had more important things, like locating his hangover potion, and remembering last night, to devote his time and attention to. He bent over, groaning, as a flashback of yesterday's lecture from the lovely, if snarky, Veela Nadine, hit him and reminded him clearly of why he'd gotten royally smashed last night.

Not that he really needed the reminder; he knew why, she'd only been the icing on the cake, so to speak, the metaphorical cake in this instance being his desire for one flying wizard employed by a magical strip joint. Still, her explanation of romance using a tree branch with souls as leaves _had _been unique, to say the least. How had she put it again? He frowned, and squinted at nothing, concentrating hard on remembering. Ah, yes….

"_Pretend a whole soul is like a leaf with a single vein running down the center. Either side is a life, or a potential life. The things that divide us into two when we would be one is life, imagine someone takes a pair of scissors to that leaf, dividing it into two – that is conception. Now, they might divide along the vein, or they might not. There is an infinite amount of possible divides, and ways the two halves of a soul may share their unique traits."_

He smiled, remembering. If nothing else, the imagery she'd used was very easy to understand and to visualize, as she'd so eloquently insisted upon.

"_Now, imagine that leaf, with its two sides divided by its vein, grew from the thinnest end of a tree branch, along with six other leaves just like it, each also divided by a vein. If they, too, are cut by scissors after being pulled from the tree, then someone can place any part of them together with the first leaf using something like tape, correct? Now, I know you're thinking 'the halves won't match' and you're right, they won't. Not exactly, not as true as the sides of the same leaf, but tape can still hold them together for a time. That tape is a soul bond, and any half of a leaf, any part of a soul, from this close association, may join in a soul bond with either side of the first leaf. But, this merging is an incorrect one, and death will again sever those ties, so the original leaf may be reunited again."_

It had bothered Harry to know there were so many, essentially false, chances for soul bonding out there. He'd thought a soul bond could only be formed by true soul mates. So, he'd argued with the blond diplomat, whom had explained, no, it was only the eternal bond that was them. If this bond was cast falsely upon two halves not true soul mates, it would be rejected, but any other soul bond was allowed. The green-eyed man had been really, really unprepared for **that **particular wake-up call.

"_Now imagine the branch your leaf came from has many off-shoots, and that some of those off-shoots have off-shoots as well, until they reach points as thin as the thinnest point leaves, each of which are also divided by veins, and can likewise be cut. Now, imagine the leaves from the two closest off-shoots, and the leaves at their ends, but not the ends of the off-shoots of the off-shoots yet, just those on these two only, making fourteen leaves, and twenty-eight sides. These are the ones that can make lesser merges, something like being pinned to paper, like in a wall display. These joins are the ones of the magical cores, but with no involvement of the soul in the bonding. Now, the two farthest off-shoots of each of those two off-shoots, and their leaves, and their leaves' halves, those are the ones that can be simply lain down on the paper next to each other, without the pins to hold them. Those are the twenty-eight souls, or fifty-six halves, that may be merged to either of the original halves via normal marriage with no attempts at either soul bonds or magical bonds. This means every part of a soul has ninety-seven chances at happiness, with this model, ninety-six of those with someone other than the true soul mate."_

It made some sense, he had supposed, as she had put it, there was something like 4 BILLION people on the planet, what were the odds of finding the true "one" in 4 billion? So, of course there had to be others we could be happy with, and *think* that those were "the ONE" even if they weren't. But, hearing it, so logically, realistically, and **effectively**, described and laid out like that; well, that was heartbreaking. But, then, of course, she had to go and make it worse.

"_Of course, life is not like some perfect tree, with set numbers – the true numbers will vary for each soul, or pair of people, that they may end up with. It, however, is likely much, much higher – likely in the thousands of potential matches for each out there. Possibly even millions, with all the different ways people can bond their hearts and lives, and with so very many people on the planet from whom to choose. A winged one of our kind…"_

And, then she had continued her lecture about Veela, and why he had to agree to help her. The brunette stopped his ruminations, and went to his potions cabinet. There! That one right there, the purple one! That was the hangover remedy. He chugged it, praying for fast action and immediate relief. His prayers were only somewhat answered, as after he sank down into one of the over-stuffed and neutral colored couches of his home, it only took twenty minutes for his hangover and all its myriad symptoms to disappear.

Then, he began to focus hard on remembering what, exactly, had happened after he entered the club. He did, at least, remember the letter, and sitting down at the table. He couldn't have had so much firewhiskey as to obliviate his memory for good, could he? No. No, this had to just be a rather longer lasting hangover symptom, one the potion wasn't any good for, that's all. Maybe locating the letter was – wait, was that it? The crumpled up paper in his pocket, and why the hell was he still wearing last night's clubbing clothes? Was he so wasted when he came home he couldn't even change into his pajamas? …Apparently.

He remembered entering the club, sitting at a small, round high table, in a darkened corner near the bar. No one went here; too far from the front with the stage. There was a single, small oil lamp in the center of the table for light, and it was just barely enough. He didn't remember the contents, though he remembered opening it.

No matter. He still had the letter with him, after all.

_Harry,_

_If that's what you want to be called, __(SPLATTER)_

_This establishment prides itself on meeting the needs of our clientele; whatever those needs may be, so long as they are legal and all parties are consenting. Privacy is the most basic need of the __**blot (**__**RUNNING STAIN**__)_

_(sMEAR) and will keep your secret safe; although I strongly encourage you to try one of those aforementioned methods of privacy and discretion. To reiterate: Polyjuice, small, medium, large, full or partial glamours, charms, and illusions of all kinds, the odd tool or devise, other more rare potions, and Weasily products._

_Now, to the matter at hand; I cannot give you my employee information as I have no such employee. All the dancers, performers, lap dancers, strippers, prostitutes, and the like, are all CUSTOMERS with year-long membership cards that have chosen on any given night to enact their privilege of doing instead of watching. My only employees are three wait staff members, two bartenders, and one very odd doorman/bouncer._

_I am familiar with the performance you mentioned, though – as you will find many are, should you ask. Primarily because I do not wish to add a member of St. Mungo's staff to my payroll as well, thus I have forbidden anyone other than myself from using a broom during their act. However, should you choose to take the stage, I might lift the restriction for you. You are the only wizard I feel reasonably certain to have the skills needed to stay on your broom while doing magic. You did once out-fly a dragon, after all._

_In gratitude for what you have done for Wizarding Britain, I would be delighted to offer you this card for your first year membership free of charge. Any contracts you choose to enter into would be bound by a single drop of blood as identifiers, rather than signatures of what most likely would be an assumed name, or of appearances, most likely faked._

_If you would ever like to meet privately for a personal show, I will also be delighted to offer my services and my broom free of charge, but not out of gratitude._

_Sincerely,_

_(HORRIBLE SMEAR AND SPATTER)_

_Owner of Constellations Witches' and Wizards' Club_

Bloody hell. He'd dribbled his drink all over the letter, and he couldn't remember the unmarred contents, nor the all-important NAME, which was the most-important part of the spoiled missive, and of course, the most illegible. How the bloody hell had he gotten so very smashed? And, where was the … oh. Right there on his kitchen table, along with his shirt and someone else's …. He must've gotten that 'private performance' then. Why must his life always be ghastly? Why, oh why, couldn't he be allowed the memory of the best night of his life?


	6. day

Disclaimer: I own nada.

A.N.: If I don't start getting reviews this will be the final chapter.

Several days later, when the trial had re-started, Nadine, of course had her part. Most of the questions tossed her way were answered with "I don't know"s, as it wasn't her Veelas, but the Aurors and the Unmentionables that did most of the searching. It also wasn't her Veela healers, but the staff of St. Mungo's that kept Draco alive.

When he finally was well enough to return to the trial, he was placed in the hot seat immediately. After all, no one knew when he'd be back at St. Mungo's or for how long. Surprisingly, he appeared normal; no visible wings of even feathers instead of hair. At first thought, he had mastered his transformations, but, no – that was the very first question, and he laughed outright at the very thought.

The memories flashing bright, bloody, pain filled and so fast as to be a blur of horror, as they sped across the Veela Pensieve projection, supported that. His last trip had involved first another change to his wing structure, giving them a bone pattern more like dragon wings, even down to the clawed tips, and much larger span. They could now easily support his weight. Then, he began to change into a pure bird form, a modified form of some sort of giant eagle. A giant magical Golden Eagle, maybe? Last but not least, after much bone breaking magic, and screaming, bloody agony, he was forcibly shifted back into his human form. This time, from all appearances, not his half-bird Veela form, either; a true human form, something most Veela do master very young. Draco had no clue how to shift at will, nor, with all the pain of his transformations thus far, was he likely to wish to learn soon.

He was then asked about his marriage. Harry was shocked and appalled to realize that Draco has been bonded against his will since he was 12. It was supposed to be a semi-permanent engagement bond, only forming a permanent bond if the two consummated it before they turned 17 and attained their majority. Unfortunately, the bond was flawed and rather than being tied to both of them, it was only tied to Pansy's virginity. So, when she lost that to Terry Boot at 16, the bond solidified. Draco had no idea what broke it, or how, or why, he only knew he was as grateful to be free as Pansy and her boyfriend were. He also expected an invitation to their wedding.

He was still a virgin himself, however, as the bond took punitive measures against what it perceived as infidelity. Pansy liked a little bit of pain, but as Draco said, "other than men, we share nothing in our taste when it comes to our pleasure." Draco was very much not aroused by the idea of pain; in fact pain was one of his greatest fears. When asked about it, before answering he had cursed under his breathe.

His curse had not gone unnoticed, and now that everything about Pansy had been resolved, much to the entire room's great pity to Draco, not that he'd appreciate their pity; the next questions seemed to be about his religious faith. After all, it isn't many people whom say something about multiple Pantheons.

"Yes, I believe in many Gods and Goddesses. When according to their associated stories they created this species or did something to that one, and those species exist, I find it hard not to believe. Isn't that proof? How can you doubt evidence? Yet, I do also accept the Judeo-Christian Gods as well; there is plenty of historical evidence for their existence too. I just have a problem with the twisting of 'No other God before me,' into 'No other God BUT me.' I also have issues with people calling it a monotheistic religion and then talking about the three deities. Three is plural, not singular, can these people not count? But, I digress… yes, I believe in multiple religions and many pantheons of deities. I am an exclusive follower and devotee of none. So, while I believe in all, I claim none, I think that makes me be considered Agnostic? But, I'm not completely certain of the terminology, so please don't hold that against me if I am wrong."

Hermione looked pissed. Harry knew she was a devoted Church of England Christian; he himself was a little more vague but also Christian of some sort, so he knew what she was so upset about. Yet, he had to admit, the bit about believing the proof sounded interesting. He was a little curious about it, enough to be tempted to visit a library – without Hermione harping at him to make him! He also had at times wondered about the 'three in one' dogma that described God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost as one person in three forms, as if that was the case…, then who, exactly, was Jesus praying to? How were the dove, as the Holy Ghost, and Jesus able to be in the same place at the same time? It was something he'd been taught not to ask about, but simply take on faith, and now, well, he was hearing he didn't have to do that. He could ask questions and form his beliefs out of those answers. He rather liked that.

Lucius had erased the negative, in his mind, parts of his family tree. He had replaced his Veela ancestor with a human, and changed the gender of the pregnant Malfoy that started the feud with the Weasley's into a female. It was never told to him his mother was also a half-Veela or that in her it was also a recessive trait that had turned up. He always assumed he was just blue-eyed and blond, like his family. He really had no idea the term 'pure-blood' meant 'creature descended' once upon a time; nor that Mudbloods, or Muggleborns, got the insulting nickname from the fact their magical DNA came from corruption in nature by magic used by those with it. In other words, wizards acting too closely with Muggles could 'create' Muggleborn children. That, along with changing Muggle ideals – burning times, and all that, had led to the hiding currently embraced.

Lucius had also learned a trick the Obliviator crew used when dealing with accidental, or in the case of broken laws intentional, magic in front of Muggles – memory charms could not only be used to wipe out memories, but also to implant false ones instead. This made Narcissa a particularly useless witness. But, that mattered little, as Lucius did not seem to learn to break the habit of paperwork and so much of what he had done was uncovered without needing to ask her. It was just her involvement was still up for debate, and without her real memories or Lucius to ask, or at the very least something like a dairy entry, there was no real way to know.

When the judgment was finally read, Draco and Narcissa were clinging to each other during the pronouncement. It was obvious both were just as afraid of what would happen, and both still clearly loved each other and wanted to protect each other. Harry was, once again, envious of that close, loving family bond.


	7. questions

Disclaimer: God owns my soul, my cat owns my heart, my ex owns my… rear…and my leasing agent owns my rental. Me… I own nothing.

**A Few Weeks Earlier, Draco's PoV:**

Casting one last Scourgify to clean up spilt butterbeer, firewhiskey, and the odd spill of mead, Draco looked around, pleased. Then he saw the glitter. Sighing, he sent several rounds of Tergeo through the building, hunting up all the last bits of dust and dust-like substances. Then it was time to polish the wood, and clean the table cloths; of course, mustn't forget the curtains! He smiled to himself, as he cast cleaning spell after cleaning spell. To have been bonded so long, he still surprised himself, not to mention others, with just how domestic he really was.

Then again, Pansy never had been, so with the house elves a distant memory, it was his skills taking care of his mum, Pansy and her flavor-of-the week, and himself. Though, to be fair, this last one had stuck around two years and even proposed before the bond broke. Still, silver eyes shining with a delight not visible on his oh-so-carefully-blank face, he wondered how the two were doing without his myriad talents to keep the house.

He smiled as he thought of his wedding gift to her; Pansy still didn't know he'd bought one. It would, of course, never even occur to her, making it the best surprise he could give, short of the freedom from the bond, itself, of course.

He frowned, once again wondering how it had broken, and how all this bloody painful feathery mess had happened. He also was terrified about what it meant in the future; for him and for his mother. It would be the worst kind of fate for her to survive that monster, live through the trials, finish out her probation and restitution, just begin building their wealth and status back to what it was once, and have something like this yet again threatening to take everything, including her life, away from her. There had to be something he could do to save her, there had to be!

Knowing there was nothing, yet AGAIN, that he could do for his family right now, he put it out of his mind, and focused on the present. He had several businesses to run, and a few were ready for expansion into foreign markets. As soon as he was done cleaning up here, he had a few orders to sign, then he needed to head over to his solicitor's, and see about the research into new locations, and the related tax laws. Research, bleh. Necessary evil, though, the blond supposed.

Smiling, he surveyed his efforts, and satisfied at last, put his wand back into his wrist holster, and hips swinging, and wings twitching, and humming to himself in contentment, he went into his office to sit down and write. He only managed his third sheet of pages before the first wave of pain hit. _No, not again! What else can be done to me? How much more of a freak will I become?_ Even while panic filled internally, and pain plaguing his body in waves of agony, mainly shooting down his wings, he continued to sign. In a furious flurry, document after document was signed and with wordless, wandless magic, sealed and sent on its way to whatever file or mail carrier bird it was destined for. He only had time to breath a quick sigh of relief before he hit the floor.

When he woke, once again in the sterile environs of St. Mungo's, he had the joy of hearing his employees had found him, saving his life. He had in the course of one morning, gained six new life debts. Joy.

Even more good news: the trial had been postponed for a day, and Nadine was the bearer of the happy news about his life-debt status. It seemed she wanted permission to discharge them for him so she could assume them from his employees. Draco adamantly, with multiple Healer witnesses, refused. The last thing he needed was for her to have more control over his life.

Then, the pain began again, and before he could even understand what was happening, once again, he was out. Then next time he woke, it was to a healer alternately murmuring comforting things to him about how "very sorry Mr. Malfoy, I know it hurts, but we can't give you anything as we don't know what it will do, but the pain will be over soon, I promise. It will be okay, please stop crying," and yelling at his fellows to "Hold him, damn it, I can't save him if he keeps thrashing like this!" He knew he was either in a nightmare or one of the darkest versions of Hell whichever deity had taken an interest in him had control over, when he heard a cry of "Sectumsempra." Thankfully, before he could find out which, he was out again.

The next time he woke, he was being bathed in a sink, and his reflection horrified him. He tried to cry out, beg for it to be untrue, but he was unused to his new syrinx, and only made a series of piercing, flutelike calls. At least that alerted the healer, whom began to chatter as he washed his new avian patent. He was, to his abject horror, told it had been nearly two weeks since he last awoke. He had missed Nadine's turn, and his chance to question her. Worse, several Aurors had taken the stands already, and testified to the hells his father had done to him. Unless he could testify; and soon, his mother was next. With water pouring down his, oh the indignities of it all, his BILL… he was out again.

The next time he woke… he was human again, and it was the same day. He gathered all the back issues of the Prophet he could get a hold of, and demanded he be discharged. He was going to save his mother!

**Currently, Harry's PoV:**

After the verdict had been read, Draco and his mother clinging to each other so pathetically, everyone filed out, surprisingly quickly. No one wanted to wait around, especially with the treaty negotiations beginning tomorrow. Nadine cornered Harry. "Have you reconsidered? I kept my bargain! I kept the more harmful details about what was done to him out of the trial. Now, you must listen to me - that was our deal!"

Harry flinched. He must've been drunk, even if he hadn't had so much as a single butterbeer in three weeks. Otherwise, why would he have wanted to spare Malfoy the hurt of knowing just what his father had done to him, and the humiliation of everyone else knowing as well. Drunk. Had to have been.

Nadine kept on. "Here, these are the notes the Aurors found. Lists of spells and a diagram of the ritual he," and Harry interrupted her midsentence.

"You didn't keep the worst out. You made him talk about his false bonding, which was private and probably humiliating. Why would you do that?" She sighed; he really hadn't been listening to anything she'd said, had he?

"Because his bond might have prevented him making a soul bond or better still eternal soul bond, which will keep him alive. We had to know. We also had to know what he knew about who cast it, and how and why. His mother's memories were mostly compromised, so she was excused the more rigorous questioning about the ritual and the bonding, but it was her memories about the bond that clued us in. She went from arguing with Lucius about the bond to agreeing and suggesting he officiate in seconds with no reason for her to change her mind. Something happened. But, she was looking right at him, and they were alone in the room, so he didn't cast Imperio. It would have been seen by us watching her memories – as she should have seen it in life. Her memories were altered, and shoddily to leave such obvious evidence."

Harry thought, strongly, Malfoy should know his mother had wanted to prevent his farce of a bonding. He also knew his thoughts didn't matter. "We don't know when her memories were altered, and if she participated in any of it or not. If participation occurred we can't know how much was voluntary and how much was manipulation. We needed Draco to help us find out. We had no choice but to ask him. His answers, however, cleared up nothing."

Nadine was a bitch of a bird; that much was clear. She held out the soul dampener that Lucius had used as part of the nasty, soul binding ritualized spell he'd cast upon his son at birth. It was a necklace, _if he recognizes it, he's the one, and so much time is saved,_ Nadine whispered harshly, "Lucius never let him remove it. See the blood? It was cut from his body – it had burned itself into his body! St. Mungo's can be ruthless, but no more so than him. He wore this every day of his life, never knowing it was the chains to his prison; a prison that is leading to his death and has several times already nearly taken him there. You can stop it; he'll never agree to come for us. With you, he has no choice!"

The bloody, gore covered, and slightly charred looking object brought back so many dark memories from the war, especially the times towards the end, Harry nearly vomited from its closeness. As it was, it was hardly recognizable as jewelry, much less anything Harry might have seen on Draco before, and as Draco's personal stalker during much of their history, he rather felt he should've known it. He turned his head and fought not to be sick. Nadine felt much disappointment; _no, of course he wasn't the one, why would they see each other, touch each other… _

"Exactly! No choice! I've been used that way myself, I know how it feels, and I swore, I SWORE, never again! Besides, if he'll really die without this, don't you think that alone would sway him? If not, mention the pain – he hates pain, and he's already been put through enough I'm sure he'll believe you." Harry was sorely tempted to hit something.

Even Hermione'd been unable to find the club's owner's name; he'd opened it under a Fidelius charm, surprisingly inventive, on his name instead of his building. Even the Ministry workers whom had processed his papers could not tell, nor did his name appear upon any documents. Harry had just about as frustrating a last few months as he could take. The trial had been exhausting, Nadine had been relentless, and the owner, his hot wizard, had not been back. Fortunately, with his new card, he could get in free, and was under no obligations to drink. Though, he did sort of wonder about the new décor… why change the oil lamps for magical ones? Did someone try to set the club on fire? Or was this just someone's change in taste?

If that wasn't enough to tax his already limited patience, this … was harassing him at every opportunity, most of which she contrived. The brunet was sorely tempted to sic Ron on her; with his hit first, maybe ask questions later, and never, ever apologize or regret later, he'd most certainly fix this appalling attitude of hers. Besides, Ron really could care less if Malfoy lived or died, which made him less susceptible; like it or not, Harry knew he did, or he would never have spoken for the Malfoys at their respective trials.

He felt a surge of pride at that, knowing his testimony had done the trick, kept them out of Azkaban. He'd been so busy, other than seeing a headline in the Prophet, he'd not really known, at the time, he'd far too many trials, and had not gotten to see the end of many. Though, he had to say, he was rather glad in most cases, a more Muggle death sentence had been granted, with an executioner, rather than the kiss. Once it began to be obvious the Marks were fading off the compelled and poisoning the loyal, became even more merciful. Still, especially now, with all he'd done to his own family coming to light, Lucius deserved the kiss he'd received.

Green eyes opened with a start. He'd been off in his own ruminations so long he'd forgotten that Dumbledore clone in a Veela's blond body, was still ranting at him Hermione style. He sighed; knowing it was inevitable he'd give in eventually, and wanting to get this over with. "Look, I don't know how I feel about this. I want to help you, and help Malfoy, I do; but I refuse to force someone to do something they don't want to do, even for their own good."

"Lousy parent you'll make," the blond snorted, suddenly glad this man was not a candidate for the consort of her future King. The brunet gritted his teeth, and held back a rude comment begging for release.

"Just give me a few days, to find some way to get him to see reason without leaving him no choice. I'll even ask Hermione to help." Nadine was delighted; the elf-loving girl had impressed her so much, she was being offered a position on the Council as an adjunct advisor, the first human ever to be so offered in their long history as a species. She was even helping draft the new treaties, even plotting loopholes allowing future renegotiations once their royals were crowned. She felt certain, in a self-satisfied sort of way, the woman would do the right thing by the Veela species.

A few days later, when Harry agreed to meet her for lunch, sans a very peeved off Ron, Harry found, to his profound disappointment but not his surprise, both Nadine and he were right. She found a way to make them both happy; or at least answer both of their concerns, even if nether really liked the results.

"Seriously, Hermione? This is complete bollocks! You want me to court Draco to force him to accept the court of other people?"

"Well, he has several ways to refuse, Harry – you did say you wanted him to have a choice, after all. This gives him one, more than one in fact. Now, first I want you to tell me all about what details Nadine gave you about the spells used by Lucius and then I'll tell you about all the ways out both you and Draco have. Deal?"

Sourly, he agreed. "He started by casting something I'm unfamiliar with, here's the notes I took," Harry tossed a scroll at her, which she quickly glanced over.

"Oh! It's a counter-spell for Avis… maybe to attempt to counter Draco's bird nature?"

"I guess so," he uncertainly replied, continuing, "then he started with some more specific spells, like Conjunctivitus to attack his eyes. Unless he wanted him in glasses like me, I've no idea why he'd cast that one."

"Birds eyes, especially raptors, are much better than ours, Harry. They can see eight times as much, in further directions, wider spectrum range, and some can even see polarized light." She answered him in a reflexive tone, still scanning the notes, almost not even listening to him. Still, for his part, Harry was amazed. He'd no idea the eyes of birds were so advanced; if Lucius was attempting to make Draco more human and less Veela, he supposed with this information, attacking his newborn's eyes made a sick and painfully twisted sort of sense.

"He Evanesco'd several organs, and Deprimo'd others, including his heart. He _killed_ his own son, Hermione, if only until he could re- Enervate him. His newborn son!" The horror Harry felt, and the betrayal on Draco's behalf, were indescribable.

The frizzy haired witch nodded absently as she continued to read. "_**Oppugno? **_Even if he'd been less of a prat, he'd never stood a chance in Hagrid's classes; no wonder he hated Magical Creatures so! Really inspired, though – it made his chances of other Veela helping him before it all broke fade to nothing." Hermione suddenly exclaimed. Green eyes narrowed, he didn't want to think any part of Lucius's conjurings was inspired, unless one meant 'inspired to evil.' "Still awful as it all was, the Ferula at the end shows he still cared somewhat. He at least cared enough to sooth some of Draco's suffering." She murmured.

Harry was incensed. How could any of that torture be called 'caring?' It was anything but! "Wow. Duel casting Petrificus Totalus wordlessly and wandlessly on his off hand while normally casting Silencio with his main hand… that's impressive!" Hermione gave a low whistle, then tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you think he would have sang his own duets if his father had not destroyed his syrinx? Or that now that it is recovered, he might try now?"

Green eyes blinked in confusion; _where did that come from_? "Umm… I don't know…?" He shrugged his shoulders.

This vein continued until late in the afternoon and Hermione had to go back. She had promised Ron she'd be home by now, you see. But, in keeping with her deal, she promised she would write Harry a letter explaining all about the courting. He'd get it first thing in the morning!


	8. sad goodbyes

Disclaimer: I own the dinner on my plate and food in my fridge. That's it.

**Harry's PoV:**

The letter arrived before Harry woke up, and the bird was evidently Hermione's personal bird as it was smart enough to know how to untie the letter itself. Either that or she'd flew'd in, dropped the letter on his pillow, and flew'd out again without waking him. They were both equally likely, Harry mused. Still, he was awake now, and ready to see what she had to say for herself.

_Harry,_

_I can't thank you enough for giving me the note you'd taken on Nadine's rantings, and Lucius's notes she'd given you, and was that the actual soul dampener he'd used on Draco? Wow!_

_Everything was so complex; I can't begin to describe how very difficult it all was, and how unlikely some of the combinations he managed to tie together. I had to dig out my old runes and arithmancy textbooks just to understand the ritual circle, I still don't understand the ritual itself. Perhaps with a bit of help from the astronomy texts, and knowing when and where he performed it… maybe then I'll be able to understand well enough to create a counter-spell that won't take waiting until the spell caster dies to break the curse and free the victim. Then something like this can never happen again…_

So that was her motivation. The brunet had wondered, suspecting more than her normal curiosity at work. Still, this wasn't what he wanted to know!

_Well, enough about all that, at least for now. I may bring it up again once I figure something out. So, Harry, you wanted a way to prevent forcing Malfoy, and Nadine wanted a way to assure Draco found his soul mate. _

_The reason I suggested courting him is, as he is currently the Heir of the Great and Noble House of Black, of which you are the Head of the Line, there are rules. One of those rules states that he can refuse your suit when it is first offered, but only if he renounces his status as Heir. If he does that, you will still have your life debt to fall back on, or you can leave it all up to Nadine._

_If he does accept, as I assume he will, then the existence of any other predestined partner, i.e. a soul mate, precludes your suit. Meaning you automatically order him to face the circle of seers the Veela council has to offer. Once his mate has been Seen, you're off the hook._

_Just in case he's one of the rare ones whom a vision does not come for him, you're still okay. At this point, you would have to court him, which really only means writing him letters, sending the occasional gift, and maybe one or two dates. However, another rule, meant to protect the Heir from coercion by the more powerful Lord (in this case – you), which this time will be to protect you from an unwanted tie, states the courting to be an open suit. That means both partners will also be available for courting from others, and in Draco's case, it will be mandatory. The first suitor whom proposes and is accepted, for either Heir or Head of Line, becomes the spouse, and ends the suit between the two, even if the suitor is neither of the mentioned._

_So, really, all in all, you're safe. Draco will marry whomever he is supposed to, and you'll have a clear conscience. Oh, and you might even get to hurt Nadine a bit, if it should go so far as truly courting Draco, and make her bankroll your gifts to him. After all, it is as a favor to her you're even in this mess!_

Back up plans to back up plans. He'd never had a use for one, much less this many; which meant that he'd probably end up like usual, with the worst luck ever. He'd end up Draco's mate; and no chance with his mystery flame. Oh, he had no illusions that he wasn't in love; he didn't even know the real face without charms, or the guy's name. But the way he moved on a broom, or off it for that matter, was brilliant, just bloody brilliant. He wanted those movements for himself. It was lust, pure and simple.

Bad luck or no, it was the best solution, so he sat down and began writing his own letters, more than a little depressed. The first was to Draco, declaring his intent to court and the pertinent rules, as laid out by Hermione, though with less emphasis on his desire to escape the trap he was willingly walking into. The second was to Hermione, telling her his decision, and asking for more details and help. The third and final was to Nadine, telling her his actions in form of the letter to Draco, demanding her to pay for any and all gifts, and of course, informing her that should Draco refuse, he was through.

Now, he just had to wait for responses.

**Draco's PoV:**

Draco was sipping the last of his morning tea, breakfast done and cleared away, while he waited on this morning's mail delivery. He needed to see if the Prophet had any more details on the business part of Wizarding London.

Plus, next weekend was his weekend visiting his Aunt Nymphadora and second cousin Teddy. He hummed in unappreciated harmonies as he planned a picnic in his head. One of the many things neither court ordered nor expected by well, anyone, the silver eyed man had chosen to add to his reparations and probation was working to fix his relationship with his surviving family. His aunt and sister had reluctantly allowed it, at first, then embraced the idea, and finally started working on their relationship as well. He has started visiting once every month, but when his mum wanted in, they alternated. Now, he visited once every other month, to avoid over taxing the beleaguered widow grandmother.

That meant, in addition to wanting the business section, this time he wanted upcoming local events. There was a Muggle circus nearby, but that was risky with the preschooler's limited control in his shifting, and Draco's own recent maladies in form. So, was there anything a preschooler would find exciting that was magical coming up soon?

His eagle owl swooped him, tossing a bundle at him like it held the plague, and back out again before he could give thanks, much less a treat. The blond frowned, but quickly cut the string and opened his bundle. _Mail! Precious, precious mail… and where?_ There! He smiled, and scanned through his paper.

"Hmmm…." The circus, it appeared, was a magical one with both magical and Muggle shows. So, he could take Teddy to one of the magical ones. There was also something at the park, and outside performance of some kind. They could watch that while they ate their picnic. He looked closer, checking dates and times. Yes. He could do both, the circus was after 2. Perfect.

In the business section, he found and circled several businesses he was interested in that were looking for new investors. Then he saw a quill shop was for sale. Now that he no longer owned the Manor, he had also lost the associated albino peacock farm. He missed those bloody birds, but he also missed having instant access to the best quills. As the last Malfoy, he did still remember all the pertinent proprietary quill-making spells, however. Perhaps he should buy it, and look into a new farm. Or give up his loathing and reacquire the Manor at long last. He'd speak to his solicitor about it the following day.

Resolved, he folded his paper, setting it aside. He was ready for his first letter. Or maybe he wasn't. It was a formal letter from the Ministry; it had to be about the trial and it could not be good.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_It has been agreed in a recent trial amongst the Wizengamot and Veela nation that you and your future descendants will be counted as Veela. You are already a British citizen, however, and will be offered dual citizenship. _

_Veela are still magical beings, however, as such, need to report to Level 4: Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and register with the Bureau of Magical Beings as soon as you are available. _

_You will also need to register with the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats, International Magical Office of Law, and any businesses you have with the International Magical Trading Standards Body all found within Level 5: Department of International Magical Cooperation, as a foreign national with dual citizenship._

Draco snorted. The letter continued with instructions for his arrival, and to carry the letter with him for a visitors' button, etc. He folded it back and set in on top of his newspaper. _The next letter needs to be great to make up for that one_, he thought.

As the picked it up, he felt his like his heart stopped. He knew that handwriting. It was from Harry.


	9. happy returns

Disclaimer: I own nothing, nothing at all.

A.N. : I made a booboo and got a mother and daughter's names mixed up last chapter. I am so sorry. Thanks to Talis Ruadair for correcting me and agreeing to beta for me. Now I just have to remember to send it to be checked first so I don't screw up so bad again!

**Draco's PoV:**

Fear and excitement warred in his veins as he held the letter tightly within his hands. All his previous thoughts, plans, and worries had flown out the window the moment he had seen the sender's name on the crisp envelope. This could be very wonderful, a brilliant delight, or this could be the epitome of torture, a new source of endless tears and self-recriminations, but it could also be a plethora of the 'in betweens.'

He breathed in deeply, held it, closed his eyes, and ripped the envelope… No damaging spells, so far so good. He let out his breath, shakily, and opened his eyes. A hesitant smile appeared on his face _I knew I could trust him. I told him who I really was; dropped my glamours, and I knew, I knew he could never use that against me._ He told himself many encouragements, as he pulled the letter from the envelope and unfolded it.

Too bad he didn't know green eyes had forgotten silver.

He read the letter through, with trepidation, the first time.

_Draco,_

_It has come to my attention that as the Head of the Line and House of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, of which you are my Heir, that I have certain obligations due to authority over you. For example, if I should want to pursue a courtship with you and approach you as a suitor, and I do, I would be obligated to officially ask you and order you to pursue an open courtship with other partners to protect you from myself._

_I would also be under orders to remind you that should you have any predestined or earlier promises or contracts, those would prevent me from seeking your hand. As a Veela, this is especially important for your protection, as it could be a matter of life or death. Therefore, by family law, and out of concern for your safety, I will only pursue you once I know you are free to be so pursued. _

_If you do not desire my suit, you are; of course, free to denounce your status as Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. However, if my suit is acceptable, please feel free to let me know, and to seek out proofs of your availability as soon as possible._

_Harry Potter_

_Lord Black and Lord Potter_

A sense of wonder, tinted with delight filled the second reading. _It wasn't just lust; he really *likes* me! … I've never even had a boyfriend, though__**, ever.**__ I've got to do this right!_

He summoned writing materials and a stack of old, unmailed letters and parcels. He jotted off a hasty note to Gringotts', regarding an upcoming visit to the last remaining heirloom vault, shared by Draco and Narcissa. He would be removing two scrolls, one for the family Malfoy and one for the family of Black, detailing courting rules and regulations.

He would also be taking an inventory of that vault as well as his personal, newer vault. It was one he had started filling as his businesses had begun to be more and more profitable. He had been determined to replace everything, other than the cursed; his father's choices had cost the family. Now, he might have a new reason to want and use those things.

Nadine got a letter, finally accepting her invitation for her Seers – conditional upon her allowing Harry their use too. The Ministry was sent a lengthy missive, as was his solicitor. The contents and tones were very, very different. Lastly, Andromeda and Teddy were shared the good news, and told about the events Draco was planning for their weekend.

Emotionally exhausted, and drained, he summoned his owl, and began sending off his piles, and piles, of mail.

**Harry's PoV:**

Harry looked at the reply Draco had sent, sighing, and grabbed a butterbeer. The alcohol was practically nonexistent, but it was still enough to take the edge off. Since he was about to do something no doubt unpleasant, he was completely convinced he'd need it. He sank into a plush lounge chair, butterbeer in one hand, letter in the other, and sighed again. Reading his reply would be almost as bad as writing the stupid thing was to begin with. Fortunately, years of slaving over paperwork for the Aurors had taught him the formal ways of writing, so he had no doubts on his talents. He just despised using them.

Then, he opened them both, closed his eyes for a calming moment, to build his courage, and opened the letter. It was simple, polite and to the point, other than the signature and address, there was but a single line. Draco was going to accept his suit. Damn. He took a hearty swig.

Before he had made it to the end of his bottle, though not for the lack of trying to finish it quickly, owls started flying in through his window in flocks. No howlers, and from the fact none sorted themselves into his 'for the flew' box, Hermione'd been by earlier this week to charm an automatic mail sorting set of 'in' boxes for mail delivery in his home, all from people he genuinely knew.

He grabbed one at random, as others began to poor in. It was from Seamus Flannigan, telling him he'd received a written apology this morning from Malfoy, with a roll of Muggle tokens included for him to use with his son at the arcade. Seamus wanted two things from Harry – one was to know what on Merlin's magical lands was Malfoy up to, it was inconceivable the apology and gift was sincere, and two was to find out how Malfoy knew about his and his son's love of the Muggle arcade. He wondered, repeatedly, throughout the letter if he should take the whole thing to the Aurors, and have Malfoy investigated, possibly brought up on charges.

Another, along similar lines, although with a less threatening tone as Hermione'd written it, was from Hermione and Ron. Hermione guessed since Harry's letter had arrived only a few hours before Draco's that Draco must have accepted Harry's suit, and as part of his return courtship and suit, was making amends to Harry's friends. Ron had received season tickets to the Chudley Cannons while Hermione had received a lifetime membership to the hidden Wizard's library at Alexandria. She stated simply, "I didn't even know there was one." From Hermione, that was impressive.

Harry, sadly, was forced to agree with Hermione's assessment, especially as he had just received a second letter, one with a small parcel attached, from Draco. He rubbed his head absently, mildly annoyed at the headache this courtship had already caused. He was going to be spending the next two or three days doing nothing but writing letters to calm people Draco Malfoy had unintentionally panicked.

He summoned another butterbeer and opened the parcel first. In it was a map of Muggle London with additional symbols drawn across the map, and a secondary key legend down at the bottom alongside the original key legend. He looked closer. The symbols were runes, and one… that was the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron! This symbol, he quickly checked against the key, yes! It did! It marked all the entrances to Wizarding London from Muggle London! There, next to the key.. something written by Malfoy… 'To get additional details, tap the rune with your wand.' He tapped the Cauldron, the map changed from London, to the shop's floor plan, sowing where to go, and at the bottom, posted 'the ritual: tapping bricks in order. The sequence:' etc. and explained everything needed in detail. At the bottom left corner was a sigil for London, to return to the main map and the right corner had a sigil for additional details.

The next thing included in the parcel was a small packet of spells. A powerful Muggle-effecting only invisibility charm, a memory charm that implanted a memory of you walking out of the room Muggle-style, and erased the memory of your true magical exit, with attached warning as ineffectiveness on those with Magical blood, even if untrained, and a spell that instantly converted any Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts into any Muggle currency chosen at the appropriate exchange rates. All three spells would be inveritably useful for walking around Muggle London or going back and forth between the Muggle and Magical routinely.

The final thing in the parcel was an invitation to the Opening Gala for the new Healer's Training School and Magical/Medical Library. An single donor had bought, and converted, an old manor house into a school with hospital, library, and potions labs attached, and stocked the library as full as he could with rare magical healing tomes, and with Muggle medical training texts. He then asked for, found, and hired Muggles to create an additional building on the grounds for training in the Muggle healing methods, and to fully stock and supply it. He also created a trust fund to supply payments for perpetuity for any and all Muggle personnel hired to work there. Future healers for St. Mungo's, Hogwarts, the Ministry, and anywhere else healers might be found, would be far better trained, and be fully knowledgeable in both magical and non means of treating their patients. The Gala was to show the new facilities, and get donations, either of additional supplies or of Galleons, before St. Mungo's sent their training staff in and officially took over the new school from the benefactor. The invitation puzzled Harry for a moment, but he ignored that, and finally headed to his letter.

_Harry,_

_I wanted to formally apologize for my past behaviors and crude insults. It was uncouth and uncalled for. I regret so very much of our past interactions, and would change them if I could. I also wish to express my heartfelt and sincere apologies for my part in the war, and any and all harm me and mine have caused you and yours. I am sending a small token of my sincere wishes for a new beginning in the form of a spelled map and a trio of spells that might make your life as an Auror a little easier. _

_May they be ever useful, and the new future bright, _

_Draco_

_Harry, _

_Sorry to be adding a new letter onto an older, unmailed one, but well… there was never a right time for the other until now, and I'm in a bit of a hurry to get this to you. It is a bit rude, though, so once again, it seems, I must apologize for my uncouth behavior._

_The reason for this later addition is your recent courting proposal. I am not certain you are aware, but it is neither an official request of courtship nor statement of intent of suit unless declared publically. Therefore, a public venue was needed which we both would attend. As primary donor for the Gala, I am obligated; but I would hope you would attend, irrespective of your choice to donate or to not donate. Thus, this would be a prime opportunity. Therefore, I have added an invitation to my packet._

_Additionally, this letter now had to be sent before the suit became official, as once it does, neither you nor I may send each other any gifts or tokens outside the courtship gifts, which would ruin the intent of the friendship and peace offering. _

_And, finally, in relation to this letter, I had, when I made this letter originally, also made up others similar to every other person whom attended Hogwarts as a student during our 7 years there, and every member of the staff; or, in certain cases, to their surviving family members. I hesitated in sending them before out of fear my overtures would be rejected and the potential negative backlash. I no longer can hold onto that fear as now, with wishing to tie your name to mine, publically, if I do not make some attempt at recompense, the negative backlash instead will be yours. I could never allow that._

The brunet snorted; cowardliness he could believe. It was the self-sacrifice he had trouble with.

_Regardless, I am quite certain both the Prophet and you will be receiving a great deal of letters about my post-sending exploits, and I can only hope you will understand the spirit in which it was done. I also pray you accept likewise in kind, and likewise forgive any hardships this may temporarily cause you, as it will hopefully save you much greater ones in the future._

_Thank you, Harry, for the prize you are giving me. I would like seek a boon for you in appreciation of the great honor upon me which you have bestowed. I am going to ask Nadine, of the Veela Council, to grant you the use of their Seer Circle once I have sat with them. Then, we may both discharge our obligations quickly and easily._

Harry laughed in bitter irony at that line; Malfoy would have no problems convincing her, as she had already offered it once herself.

_I very much look forward to our courtship._

_Yours in Sincerity,_

_Draco_


	10. planning

Disclaimer: I own my thoughts on how Drarry is better, but everything else is Rowling's

A.N.: Just discovered my continuous misspelling of flue as flew. Will work on that.

**Draco's PoV:**

Draco looked at the stained glass and gemstone vase one last time before wrapping it up. It was his replica of the one his grandfather had commissioned for his grandmother for an anniversary, the Veela wasn't sure which one, and had been passed to Narcissa at her own wedding – something old, and all. His replica, while less valuable than the Muggle-designed Tiffany original, had a value all its own in the spells crafted in it, as well as in the cabochon gemstones used in place of the matching cabochon glass marbles. He planned to give this to his mother to celebrate her new freedom, the innocent verdict had granted her.

He also planned to take her with him on his outing with Andromeda and Teddy. Shakespeare had actually been a wizard, and his plays, even when preformed in adaptations, were always a delight. It was fun seeing the glimpses of jokes at the ideas Muggles had about witchcraft and wizardry – like the ones in Hamlet. This one, due to the time of year, late spring, was no doubt an adaptation of "A Midsummer's Night's Dream," always a favorite of Draco's.

Then, they would be off to the circus! Well fed, Teddy would be less susceptible to the highs, magical and natural, of sugar from sweets. The silver-eyed devil, ready to bring whatever mischief may come to his aunt, knew his young cousin would never resist the tender offerings of circus fair, no matter how full from his picnic repast.

He would give her the vase before they took off, he supposed. The original was still locked safely within their mutual vault, having been recovered by Borgin and Burkes, and bought by Draco shortly after the new year. He'd run across it, and came up with the idea for the replica while inventorying the vault, courting gifts in mind. He'd also discovered, to his horror, he had no idea what to give as a first gift, even after surveying his private vault as well. He would have to wait and see what gift Harry offered, and then plan accordingly.

He set the now wrapped vase down, and stood. It was almost time to flue over to his mother's, and then on to Andromeda's. He walked to his bedroom, and began getting ready. He had discovered Muggle fashion quite by accident in his poverty immediately following the seizing of assets, but still loved the pants called 'blue jeans.' For sitting on grass, and for the mess the circus was bound to be, they were perfect, too. The French and Americans could create wondrous things together!

He debated, and then chose not to wear a tie, leaving his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar and folded instead. He was going to be outside, after all. The park would be a mixed Muggle and magical events, so a cloak would be out of the question. Teddy would have to wear a hat, and would no doubt put up a fuss unless he wore one as well. He picked his favorite grey fedora, and then decided the hat looked too formal with his very casual attire. Frowning, he grabbed the only Muggle 'baseball cap' he owned – such ugly things! But, it was casual, and when one needed to blend in, it was perfect.

He wore no jewelry, save his Malfoy signet ring. Even his pearl cufflinks, with the stone's natural love abilities enhanced by the fact it was his June birthstone, were left behind. He needed no help loving his family, nor, on the first time seeing her since the trial in which he could have lost her, in appreciating his mother. Besides, the last time he'd worn them around Teddy was when the boy was four months old and teething; he'd nearly eaten one. The blond never really had gotten past the event.

He had a little less than an hour left, so he went into the kitchen, summoned his picnic basket, blanket and cushions, tableware, glassware, and of course dishes. A wave of his wand packed the lot of it, time to cook! _One-Minute Feasts—It's Magic _and _Enchantment in Baking_ had become Draco's close and personal friends when he lost the elves he'd grown up with. Now, he could whip up a gourmet meal for hundreds in less than an hour; when he had the ingredients. A meal for five, simple and easy to digest, healthy and good for a growing child was child's play for Draco now.

He made a simple salad with only five kinds of lettuce, two types of radishes, regular orange and exotic purple carrots for color, mushrooms, snow peas, cherry tomatoes, cabbage, spinach leaves, the tops of cornflowers and broccoli, and lentils. He used only the most basic of toppings; yogurt covered raisins, mandarin orange sections, almond slivers, glazed pecans, cranberry-raisins, pineapple wedges, baked pumpkin seeds, bacon bits, sunflower seeds, a variety of bell peppers, and of course candied cherries. It really was just the most basic salad he could offer. For this, it would do.

He whipped up a chicken salad; intending to make chicken salad sandwiches on oversized croissants. He didn't think there was enough fruit offered so far, so he used the fruity version he'd learned. Thin on the sauce, it was half mayonnaise half ranch dressing for sauce, lots of chicken breast, celery, almonds, raisins, red, white, and purple grapes and red and green apples, seasoned just so with salt and pepper. He thought it might need a bit more pizazz, but Teddy was easily impressed.

He started to make a fruit salad, then suddenly grasped just how much salad that would be, and packed a bunch of loose apples, bananas, and pears and left it at that. Then he made the croissants. Nothing too fancy, just a standard sweet French bread recipe.

For drinks, fresh squeezed pumpkin juice was poured into a spill-proof pitcher, quickly packed away. Draco frowned thoughtfully, and then filled another, just to be certain. A smaller pitcher was filled with carrot juice for variety. He pondered for a moment, and settled on a recipe he'd gotten from the southern regions of America – banana pudding. Quick, easy, and simple as well as healthier than say, treacle tarts. Perfect for a growing boy! He smiled, and with a quick wave, it was done!

He still had thirty minutes before he needed to flue to his mother's, but, he decided, he'd rather go early, and spend the extra time talking. He did have some catching up. He summoned Harry's letter, to show her, and setting the fully packed basket to follow him, headed toward his fireplace. He was ready to begin his day.

He picked up the wrapped vase, and with his free hand, threw the powder in, calling out "Narcissa's place," as he stepped into the green flames. Stepping back out into her room sitting room, he first turned to check he still had everything with him… yes, excellent. He carefully dusted himself, and his possessions off, with a rapid Tergeo.


	11. execution

Disclaimer: I just bought shampoo, so I own that. I do not own anything written here, or used as source material.

A.N.: Okay, as I have been informed, flew is wrong (spell check), flue is wrong (beta), floo is right. So, sorry once more, I'll try to work harder on my abysmal spelling.

**Draco's PoV:**

The sitting room was elegantly appointed, he observed, silver eyes slits, narrowed in critique. The étagère was lovely, but just as when his mother had picked it out of his showroom, it needed a match. He resolved to begin working on that, then filed the thought away. The curved, low table with the two tall high backed Elizabethan chairs was a mismatch. No one could reach without bending over. He filed that away for fixing, as well.

"Mum?" Setting the wrapped vase down on the low table, he called to her.

"Draco? My darling Dragon, you're early, is something the matter? Why, Oh!" She had walked into the room, and seeing the gift on the table before her son, and her face, normally so austere, lit up into a smile. "Draco, I'm sure it's lovely, but you didn't have to." She walked over, and hugged her son tightly. Neither cared that she was not finished getting ready; it did not even register that she only had on one earring. No, both were just delighted to be with the other.

When they finally pulled apart, and sat down, Draco levitated the vase with a simple Wingardium Leviosa, and brought it over to his mother before releasing the spell. She began to unwrap it, with many glances aside to Draco as she did so, and a small, happy smile curving her lips. He fidgeted his hands in his lap.

"Draco! How lovely! You made it almost identical, but I know none of the original was anything but glass. This is almost more special; tell me about it, Dragon." She looked at him expectantly.

"Well, it has a built in Reparo, so it will never break, of course," he began.

"Of course," She agreed.

He smiled, briefly, then continued, face blank once more. "The inner part is Impervius, so it can be used without any leaks, so no matter if it does crack and the Reparo fail." She nodded. "The blue stones are, of course, Lapis Lazuli, for healing and for your birthday. The swirling browns are Tigereye, for the all-seeing eye, to see potential accidents and prevent them. Bloodstones for the safety of the home, and Citrine is there for happiness." An unconscious hand gesture, one he'd never have made even unconsciously if not totally comfortable, signaled he was finished.

"It's lovely, Dear. Thank you, my Dragon." With that, she stood, and carefully arranging to find a spot, placed the vase upon the étagère. Then, turning she gestured imperiously, "Come, Draco, I need to finish getting ready. You can keep me company, and we can talk." Not even looking to see if he followed, she began walking out of the room.

Of course, he did.

When they reached her dressing room, this was a small house that had been thoroughly expanded inside with space extending spells, giving Narcissa all the rooms she needed, she sat in front of her vanity and continued applying her jewelry and make up magically. Draco sat in one of the small Louis XIV styles chairs in a corner to the side. Once they were both comfortable, Draco pulled out Harry's letter from wherever it was he had stashed it. "Mother, how would you feel if I were to allow myself to be available for courtship?"

Narcissa stumbled in her wand-work, smearing her face with black lines. She sputtered, waved, and corrected the mistake before turning to face Draco. "If, my Dragon," she said, her tone very carefully neutral, "that is what you wish, then I am fine. If, however you are feeling pressured and do not want this, we shall fine a way out. That Nadine woman and her Veela council need have no sway over your heart, Dearheart. I will support you whatever you should choose, my Dragon, never doubt that."

Draco felt relieved. He had worried over what his mother might say. "No, Mum, she, they, have nothing to do with this. Well, very little," concentrating, he summoned Nadine's response he had received two days ago from his home, and both letter were passed to his mother tout de suite.

After reading them both, a frown marred her lovely features for but a second, then she smoothed her face into the even frosty loveliness only her family could read. She had her concerns, indeed she did, especially about that horrid Nadine woman, but… "I know how you have always craved his good opinion, Draco. You lashed out when you thought it lost for no good reason. You were delighted when he came to your store openly, even if he had the bad taste to not buy any of your lovely pieces. I know how attractive you find him; there's a look in your eyes when you read about him, you know. But, protect your heart first. I am here for you always, and will do whatever you need me to do, Dragon. If he should hurt you, though, Britain will find themselves one hero short immediately." She handed him the letters back, and returned to her mirror, earlier tasks resumed. Both of them knew, for them, the subject was now closed.

They made some small talk as she move from her vanity to her walk-in wardrobe. Draco, staying in his seat, made use of a Sonorous. Narcissa, presumably, did the same. She came out in a simple black dress, one that could be worn appropriately to almost anything. It was close, but not quite too fancy for the day. She held out an arm, for him to take and escort her. "Shall we?" Though usually ill advised, the two went through the floo together. Narcissa was holding the picnic basket with her free hand, though, not wanting it floating past when they saw Andromeda and Teddy.

"C'sin Drake!" They snaggletoothed boy launched himself at the silver eyed man, nearly knocking him and Narcissa over in his mindless pursuit of a hug.

"I see you've lost another tooth, soon you'll be all grown up, a fine young man!" Narcissa teased, kneeling to better see her second nephew.

"Aun' Cissa, I didn't know you were coming," The child said uncertainly, never completely sure how to act around his alternately prissy and down-to-earth aunt. His cousin Draco was more easy to understand, in his mind – Draco didn't know how to deal with kids, so he bought their love. Knowing that, and knowing the gifts and outings meant Draco was just as uncertain as he was, but also loved him just as deeply, if not more, than any insecurities, made Teddy trust and love wholeheartedly his stiff cousin. Though if you asked him to put it into words, since he didn't know most of them, he would probably just say "I dunno." And be done with it.

But, he hugged his aunt nonetheless, and then asked, happier tone returning, "Where're we going today?" He was starting to bounce.

"Until you get a little more control or a hat, nowhere." Andromeda said, sternly, as she pulled a hat down over her rambunctious grandchild's head. His hair had been flittering between the neon pink of happiness and the almost as obvious silvery blond of the cousin whom had brought the happiness.

"We're going to a mixed Muggle/magical park to picnic and watch a parody of a play. It should be hilarious. Then after we've cleaned up, we're off to a magical Circus. We should miss tea, so we'll eat some of the circus fair, but we'll be back here in time for dinner, and eat your lovely Grandmum's wonderful cooking. Then, you'll be off to bed, while Draco and I talk to your Grandmother before we go home. How's all that sound?" Dusting herself off, Narcissa stood, not waiting for an answer; it wasn't really a question anyway.

"Who cooked?" Even at the ripe old age of five; or five and three quarters, as he would tell you, Teddy knew to be wary anything Narcissa cooked herself. Draco or house elves had to cook it, or no matter how she tried, she'd never get Teddy to again eat anything she had offered.

"I did," Draco smiled in hidden amusement. Though she never admitted it, even Narcissa knew her cooking was positively horrid. Teddy looked relieved, Narcissa looked miffed but it was obviously faked, and Andromeda looked like she disapproved but was amused regardless.

"Well, let us hurry, lest we miss the start," Andromeda began waving everyone through the floo, as they would be going through a store front, then walking to the park. Narcissa went first, to make sure adults were with Teddy at both ends, and to secure the basket. Andromeda went next, then Teddy, and Draco bringing up the rear. Once everyone was in, Narcissa paid, and thanked, the storekeeper for the use of his floo, while Draco cleaned everyone with quick spells.

It was, of course, hell getting Teddy to keep his hands to himself as he walked through the store; Draco had to resort to warnings of cursed objects. He backed up his warning with true stories from him favorite store – toned down to be child-friendly, of course. With a much more sedate, if pale, child they finally made it outside in the fresh air. The late spring warmth was tempered by a cool breeze; thankfully it wasn't raining today, as it so often did.

The small amphitheater, and the makeshift seating of wooden logs and stumps, the occasional large stone, was very close to the middle of the park. So, the group took their time, strolling leisurely through the well-tended trees and shrubs, smelling the flowers, and laughing at Teddy's gymnastic enthusiasm for the outdoors. They joked he might just runaway and join the circus himself while they were there, if his tricks were any clue.

When a good spot was found, one well enough away from the makeshift seating area, but still close enough to watch the performance, Narcissa stopped everyone, and Andromeda called Teddy closer from where he had wandered. The blond woman set the basket down, and the others circled protectively to hide the magic she was about to do from curious eyes. She unpacked everything as fast as possible, so as little to be noticed could be in the time used.

Fortunately, no one was looking at them; the play was just getting ready to start, and everyone was set to watch as fairies made a mess of things. In this parody, they were screw ups, and the play was filled with tricks that failed or back fired, and highjinx even the Bard himself could not have thought of. Once their little group was seated, and appropriately pleasantly surprised by the cushions they were seated upon, Draco asked for a moment of silence. Officially, they could not pray to whom the majority of them would have liked, and Draco, while open religiously, did not like being told to whom to ask grace. So, he just asked for silence, and let everyone pray or not, as they liked and to whom they liked as well. It suited their family well.

Eating proved harder than praying, as nearly everyone choked at least once, laughing at the play while eating. Draco was never so glad to have read _The Healer's Helpmate, _and to have learned Anapneo. He was also glad to have loaned the book to his mother, when it was his turn to choke. Spinach leaves never taste the same both ways…

Hilarious at it was, otherwise, it was unremarkable, with little, if anything to tell about it. The circus, however… Good times began when Narcissa chose to send everything except the basket and cushions magically. Draco almost had to obliviate a Muggle or two. They lost Teddy during the walk across town. Twice. When he started to run off the third time, Draco copied the Muggle harness and tether for children to keep Teddy closer; he believed they called it a leash like those used on dogs. He wondered if children and dogs were similar in Muggle thinking.

Then the fire eaters inspired Teddy, whom didn't know the right spells, and set Narcissa's dress on fire. After putting it out with several Aguamenti spells, Narcissa was cold, wet, and cranky for the rest of the afternoon. So cranky, she almost cursed the clown that dared to laugh at her.

The hippogriff riders preformed right when they would normally have tea, so they ordered sweets, treats, and drinks from the walking concessions seller. Teddy was hard to convince when he wanted Pepper Imps, but the adults held firm. As it was, the hopping of the Peppermint Cream Toads still nearly made him sick. This was as bad as a visit to Honeydukes!

The Magical Beast Trainer brought out a small dragon, Draco couldn't tell what kind no matter how much Teddy pestered him, resolving to just buy him a few dragon books later. The Griffon act, with the hoops for them to fly through, was to Draco's thinking, much more impressive. Then was a serpent act, which had Draco trembling in fear, his mother trying to comfort him, and Teddy laughing, over his grandmother's attempts to shush him. The silver eyes of his had witnessed far too many of Nagini's terrors to ever be comfortable with serpents again.

After all that, it was finally time to head home. Teddy was tired and cranky, having missed his afternoon nap. Narcissa was wet and cranky. Draco was still unnerved and regretting his choices in entertainment. Andromeda was ready for her evening pain potion. Everyone was ready for the day to be at a close. There was a floo for rent in a small tent, one used as a fortuneteller's tent during the Muggle shows. For time, they all used it to travel back to Andromeda's.

Her dinner was more of what a normal person, not Draco, would consider simple. She served fish and chips; with treacle tart for dessert, and milk or tea the only drink choices, citing too much sugar in pumpkin juice. Teddy had already had more than enough today. It took all three adults to manipulate the boy into brushing his teeth, wearing his pajamas, and going to bed. Once down, however, he fell asleep with the speed only the truly exhausted can manage.

Draco and Narcissa sat down with Andromeda, and he once again pulled out his two letters. "We have a lot to catch up on, Aunt. First let me tell you about my repeated recent hospital visits. And then…"


	12. shocked

Disclaimer: Want to own H.P.? So do I! But, only Rowling does, and alas, she sells billions of copies of novels, but no rights to anything.

A.N.: This chap is dedicated to my beta Talis Ruadair, in gratitude for all the help.

**Harry's PoV:**

The brunet was currently digging through his wardrobe. He'd yet to clear out his Auror robes, and finding the dress robes he'd worn last year to that award ceremony was proving difficult. He'd only worn them the once, so they should be fine for this stupid Gala. He scowled; he did not care how he looked, he was not dressing up for Nadine, the bloody Veela bint, nor for Draco sodding Malfoy, courting be damned! If this wasn't such an important event for the sodding Wizarding public and healers of St. Mungo's, he wouldn't even be looking for the ruddy robes… and hexes upon the first person who insulted him, double if it was Malfoy!

_There_! Black, and neat, and clean and … stringy? The cleaning charm must have been a bit too harsh when he removed it last year; there were pulled loose threads sticking out everywhere. "Bloody hell." He waved his hand, and burnt them down; now there were rough patches. But at least he didn't look like he'd bought his robes secondhand. Not that he cared what anyone thought, he did not, not at all! He just didn't like stringy robes.

He pulled the robes on, and then walked towards his dresser. Tucked into the frame of the mirror hanging above it was a picture of his Godson, Teddy Lupin. He hadn't seen Teddy in a few weeks; it used to be they saw each other every other weekend, but lately he'd been a bit, umm.. preoccupied? …with discovering the identity of his mysterious strip store owner, and busy with the Veela crap. So, last weekend, feeling a bit lonely, and seeing an article about a Wizarding circus in the Prophet, he'd firecalled on a whim. Teddy and his grandmother Andromeda, his legal guardian, had plans, she had informed him.

Wouldn't tell him what they were, wouldn't let him join, and wouldn't even say with whom they were with. In other words, she'd left him feeling very much the outsider to the family, that by blood, he very much was. Depressed, he'd gone wandering around a mixed Muggle and magical park for a few hours. About midday, he'd heard a bit of a clamor, and realizing there was some sort of show, wandered closer. Then he'd seen blond, not just any blond either. Platinum, white-blond… Malfoy.

He was playing with a child, young boy, actually … could've been Teddy's age? Must've been Pansy's son… Harry'd turned away, hurt and jealousy burning, and confused because he didn't know why. Even know, a week later, he steadfast refused to look at Teddy's picture, still bothered by the rejection of his family. He also firmly pushed the memories of Malfoy aside, refusing to allow his jealousy of the closeness and family he had, with not even his own child! He never slept with Pansy, and he still somehow managed to get the family two years of living with Ginny had never given him.

He forced his resentment to the side, brushing his hair ruthlessly. The wild nearly-black locks still looked untamed, but at least now no knots or tangles were visible in the wild mop. _Good enough_, he thought, slamming his brush down. The turned and stormed to his fireplace, preparing to floo to the address listing on his invitation. He hoped the firewhiskey was free, but if not, he did have a few galleons in his pocket. He was going to drink until tonight did not seem like the hell it was certain to actually be. If he embarrassed Draco Sodding Malfoy by getting drunk when formally requesting a courting, then all the better!

To the often visible contempt of the elegantly dressed "upper-crust" socialites attending this soiree, Harry neither charmed nor brushed away the black dust clinging to his robes after his trip through the floo. He did, however, regret not knowing that there was both a designated Apparition room and a broom landing spot, with a broom and coat check nearby. Flying was always better.

The room that would eventually be used to create mock traumas to test emergency skills was currently being used as a ballroom. Testing would be of Healers-in-training, as well as nurses-in-training, those wishing to be like the great Madam Pomfrey. In the present, the wealthy and over-dressed stood in clumps chatting, or in the center of the room, dancing gracefully to whatever classical ensemble was playing. Harry was not sure it if was a live band, or Wizarding Wireless; he could see neither, nor was he interested enough to go looking.

There was a wide, arching stairwell leading to the upper floors, and some people were on various steps talking, a few walking up or down, others clustered on the landings. The upper floors began with a balcony overlooking the hall he was in, and there were even more people leaning on rails, as well as slowly drifting past in either direction. He assumed some of those walking were actually touring the facilities, learning about this soon-to-be school. Most, however, he knew were just circulating the crowds. So far, no one had recognized him or tried to grab him. He only hoped that would continue.

Down the hall, in what would eventually be a cafeteria, elegantly decorated round tables sat with formal settings and name places. Orchids and lilies of some kind made up with centerpieces, riots of color on the otherwise blank and bland white tables. Some people were already sitting, sipping drinks, chatting with their seat mates, as house elves circulated amongst them, offering appetizers and drinks. The elves, surprisingly, were free elves – wearing miniature suits and ties of some kind. It was an obvious uniform, but still… hired elves, not slaves. Harry was impressed, despite himself. Still, his annoyance had not ebbed.

He hated these sorts of things. They were like the Yule Ball all over again – all false flattery, stupid etiquette rules he could never remember, and people pretending to be what they weren't. Invariably, as soon as someone's attention was attracted to the "Savior of the Wizarding World's" presence, as he doesn't attend these things often, some of the witches would be fawning over him because they're interested in bagging him as a possible husband.

Silly little girls would be batting their eyelashes at him; touching him lightly on the arm to get his attention and way too many of them asking him to dance or flirting with him. He was not interested in any society daughters. Heck, he wasn't even interested in society SONS. He wasn't remotely thinking about marriage; after Ginny, he didn't think he could. No, all he wanted was a nice hot evening with a wild-flying strip joint owner. But he could never say that.

This time, he was actually supposed to be doing the high society thing, which was worse than just dancing or small talk, like he was normally forced into. No, this time, he was here to ask permission to court, a very upper crust thing indeed, and to Draco Malfoy, of all people, whom he did not even LIKE, much less love, nor desire to court, much less marry. The greater good, as Dumbledore was so fond of talking about, or his 'saving people thing' as Ron would say, was really screwing up his life right now. His already bad mood plummeted when he finally found his seat.

He was at the head table, between the Evening Coordinator, Susan Bones, and Draco sodding Malfoy, Main speaker. There would be no missing him or what he was supposed to be doing tonight. He seethed inwardly. The bastard planned this to humiliate Harry, he just knew it. He signaled an elf, and grabbed a sparkling glass of something.

With the bubbles in the smooth pale golden liquid, it resembled champagne. The smoke rising from the glass, and the burning sensation in his mouth, and as he swallowed, flaming down his throat, reminded him strongly of firewhiskey. He knew blended wine and whiskey drinks existed in the Muggle world, especially among the Elite. Too many Wizards had been busted for breaking the Statue of Secrecy under the influence for him, master of paperwork that he used to be, not to know that. He assumed the same was true here. He unobtrusively cast a self-refilling charm on his glass, and tossed the current contents back.

He waited, through the socialization time; he waited though the command to be seated and welcoming remarks. To be polite, he pretended to listen to an overly-smug Malfoy during an overly-pompous speech about charity, something Harry was certain Draco knew very little about. This event notwithstanding. He even clapped tiny, mocking applause when it was appropriate. But inwardly, he continued to seethe and rage against the injustice of his life, and the arrogance of Malfoy. Once Ms. Bones directed dinner to begin, he calmly, or so it appeared, stood, tapping his spoon to his glass.

His green eyes had never shown with so much hate, ironic how lovely it made them. The brunet turned slightly, so he was half facing the blond, and ignoring the self-satisfied smirk, resolved to get this over with as fast as possible. Then, he could go to his favorite club, have one last hurrah with his favorite new obsession, yes even Harry knew that's what it was, and pretend the first part of this night never happened.

"Ladies and Gentlemen; Witches and Wizards," he began; surprised the acoustics of the room were such no Sonorous charm was needed. "As Lord Black and Lord Potter, I stand before you assembled as witnesses to ask a question of Draco Malfoy, as Lord Malfoy and as Heir of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Draco, would you grant me the honor and privilege of being a suitor for your hand and enter into a courtship with me?"

Draco stood, and gave a short, formal bow, before looking up into Harry's eyes. He was smiling, the prat, his mockery and delight at Harry's embarrassment so complete the grin nearly split his face. In fact, Harry would almost swear he was… beaming. "I accept, m'Lord, under the condition we are proper and obey all pertinent House Laws."

That was when all hell broke loose.

Draco, monumental hippogriff's arse that he was, forgot to mention he'd invited the press to his little Charity Gala. All the press, too, not just theQuibbler and the Prophet; no, he'd even invited Witch Weekly, which he could sort of understand, and Challenges in Charming, the Practical Potioneer, Which Broomstick? and Transfiguration Today_, _which did not make any sense at all! There was also a few other people shouting to identify themselves before hollering out their questions. This was the absolute last straw, and when he turned to fully face Draco, to tell him so, he stopped only because of the expression he found on the usually carefully blank face. Fear and confusion.

Draco had not known the press was going to be here. Harry felt like an arse; he'd been set and ready to rip into another victim. About the time he started to ask Draco who he thought might be responsible for the mad house, another clear bell-like ringing was heard. Amazingly, the rabid crowd was silenced. The voice that spoke from somewhere behind the mobbing reporters and paparazzi, and the person owning that voice, did not have to be seen to be identified. He'd heard it far, far too often in the last few months.

Nadine, her tone authoritative, said, "Gentlemen, if you really intend to honor the laws of your House there are a few things the public should know. Firstly, that means your courtship is an open one, and so other suitors whom should wish to enter courtships with either of you are free to do so. Secondly, this means Draco Malfoy has chosen not to renounce his British citizenship in favor of the Veela throne, and will instead, only rule as Regent upon marriage to his Consort. As that is the case, the Veela nation, insists you also honor Veela courting traditions. We ask because we are aware you are choosing your future Mate and Consort as well as father to our future King or Queen. Should anyone wish to know more about these customs, they may write the Veela Council and request a simple scroll for a printing fee of 3 sickles. That is all."

As the mob rolled in confusion, throwing questions at Nadine, as well as at Draco and Harry, Harry took advantage. He raced along between the tables, nearly knocking over a house elf, and once he reached the Apparition room, he was off. This hell was over; he was done! It never even registered that he had abandoned Draco to the rabid masses. Draco, of course, could handle the mess and salvage his event, so he did not merit the thought.


	13. appalled

Disclaimer: I own EVERYTHING! Now, if you believed that, I wanna talk to you about some timeshares in Florida….he he he… otherwise, you're right, I own NADA.

A.N.: This chapter is also dedicated to my beta as she actually wrote Rita's interview, and helped me decide how to handle the newspaper/magazine element to the tale.

**Draco's PoV three days after the Gala:**

The blond calmly sat sipping his tea, knowing full well his mother would be arriving soon, her solicitor in tow. Then, his solicitor, sitting nearby, would take him and the two would retreat to the sitting room to discuss strategy, while he and his mother enjoyed the dining room in peace. She and he had things to discuss.

So did the solicitors, and since it did involve them, they needed to be on-hand to answer questions. They just did not want to be involved more than they had to, barrister talk being a language they only had limited knowledge of. For Draco, it was fairly limited to business law, and even then, well, there was a reason he hired a solicitor to assist him. For Narcissa, it was even further limited to inheritance; her solicitors were hired at need, rather than kept on hand and on staff.

The solicitors would be discussing slander and libel suits against various and sundry publications for the scandalous issues put out following the Gala debacle. They would, if they could, also sue Nadine for causing it. Unfortunately, legally, they could not. It was frustrating, but they would just have to deal with her, at least for now.

As for his mother, well, she wanted to discuss the debacle itself, mostly. Since she witnessed parts of it, being in the seating audience, she had been rather incised about the whole affair. Draco himself had been of mixed emotions, and with his first formal suitor, desperate need of advice. He also had started getting piles of letters addressed to 'the future Veela king,' both good and bad, and a smaller number were courtship propositions. He hated, hated the idea of accepting any of them, but knew he would be required to at least go on one or two dates with men other than Harry. All in all, Draco needed his Mother.

She arrived silently, and with neither word nor gesture the solicitors abandoned them to their solitude. Draco pour his mother a cup, mixing the sugar and cream to her taste, and passed it to her all without breaking the quiet that surrounded them. Equally quietly, she accepted the tea, and sat across from him. Both were desperate to talk, neither quite ready to begin.

Finally, after sipping for a moment, Narcissa set her cup aside. "It was truly wonderful how Andromeda offered her support like that. Still, I do think her warning about Harry Potter's fickle nature a bit tacky, don't you agree?" Draco only inclined his head; he knew she needed neither agreement nor disagreement, just some acknowledgement she'd been heard. "And that Potter boy! I was not sure if he was really serious or if his letter was just a fluke, but he did right, Draco, he did everything just as he should have! I am so proud of you, catching such a handsome suitor!"

It was official, his normally reserved mother was gushing, she even placed a hand upon Draco's as she continued! "You looked so nice standing beside him, my Dragon, you make a fine couple, both so handsome, so debonair. But," Now she turned stern, patting his hand in consternation, "I do not like how he rushed out of there, throwing you to the wolves, Draco. That was very thoughtless and very cruel. It showed a lack of concern for your best interests. You need to be careful that his carelessness does not get you hurt." She patted him one last time, then withdrew her hand, sitting straight and proper, almost regally, as she had always done.

Draco smiled a sad, hidden sort of smile, with the corners of his mouth just barely turned. She saw it, of course; anyone who truly knew him would. His so-called expressionless mask had always held cracks and gapes if one knew where to look. But, to those who didn't, well, they wouldn't have seen the smile, either. "Mum, I'll be perfectly fine. He was being discrete, that is all. I could not leave, I was the main speaker. He knew that. He could not stay and wait for me; if we left at the same time they would assume we left together. The scandal from that alone would break our name for generations! He made the right choice. Yes, it hurt and upset me to turn and find him gone, but it was the right choice. Had we discussed it, I would have told him to do the same."

This time, Narcissa inclined her head. Her judgment was, of course, reserved. "So," she said, "The lawyers will of course be handling the lawsuit of the Prophet. How shall we be handling the rest of this mess?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I wanted to talk with you about!" Draco began gathering his piles of letters to go through with his mother, and she gathered the newest Prophet atrocity.

"Have you seen the latest article, my Dragon?"

"No, it can't be anything worse than the first article, though, can it?"

"Yes. It can."

Horrified, Draco was forced to take a break from his summoning and sorting. He glanced at the article, on the cover, of course, and there was a photo of him smiling in adoration at Harry. He had hoped his small crush would not be quite so obvious… but, honestly, Harry was the first man whom had ever expressed an interest, smart, funny, and bloody gorgeous, not to mention he had once or twice, okay three times but that was it, he swore! Harry had saved his life. How was he supposed to not have a crush on Harry? Honestly?

Still, he forced his gaze past the picture, and began to read the meat of the article.

_The Wizarding World was shocked yesterday when Harry James Potter announced his intentions to recently acknowledged Veela, Draco Malfoy, to enter a courtship with him at the St. Raphael's School of Healing and Medical/Magical Library Grand Opening Charity Gala. One could see the love in his usually haunted eyes as he propositioned Lord Malfoy and the Black Family Heir. We here at the Prophet wanted to know how long the two of them were interested in one another. This witch cannot help but think back to the school yard fights they had at Hogwarts, which one could only attribute to unresolved attraction. However, others may assume that Harry didn't realize his attraction because of his numerous girlfriends. His dating friend Hermione Granger during the Triwizard Tournament, Cho Chang captured his heart in fifth years according to those at Hogwarts with him, and lastly his failed engagement with Ginny Weasley. One cannot help but wonder if the issues in that relationship were due to Harry's suppressed sexuality. I understand that many witches are crying at this news, but the Savior of the Wizarding World has no interest in skirts, well unless Lord Malfoy is dressed in drag._

Draco was shocked and appalled. Firstly, he NEVER dressed in anything other than the finest, most appropriate of male clothing. Even when he had stripped in his club, he only wore the most expensive male lingerie. Secondly, that stupid bint had broken Harry's heart, something Draco would never do, and he did not like being compared to her! Bad enough he had to follow in her footsteps… didn't bare thinking about, actually. Thirdly, he was not sure Harry was truly gay, maybe he was bi? Or maybe, and Draco really hoped this was the case, he was the only man Harry was attracted to – so Dracosexual? He *forced* himself to continue reading.

_With the requirement of an open courtship, one has to wonder if Lord Malfoy returns Harry's attentions. It is well known that the bond between Pansy Parkinson and Lord Malfoy was recently severed. However, many have come forward to share that it was never a binding of love as Lord Malfoy prefers trousers to skirts as well. Well perhaps not when he's alone and decides to try on his mother's gowns. Also, he had decided to denounce the Veela throne by keeping his British citizenship according to the Leader of the Veela council, Nadine. Also the two are expected to honor Veela Courting Traditions for more information on those, write the Veela Council. Please see page 5 for details._

Draco was starting to get furious. He Did Not Dress in Drag. He was never interested in his mother's gowns.

_I am likely to root for this couple like the rest of you; however I must do my job as a journalist and ask the hard questions. What of Lord Malfoy's mate? Is Lord Potter his mate and hence this courting choice or will things once again fall apart for the Boy Who Lived? Will he once again be left standing at the altar, all alone? One can hope that the boy with the eyes haunted by his past has finally found his family. I shall continue to cover this for everyone who wants to know. Let us hope that the two will be happy in the future and Lord Malfoy will soon fulfill his destiny of being the breeding mare for the Veela Nation, much like his ancestor before him. Rita Skeeter_

Draco was shaking when he looked over to see his mother had finished leafing through the piles of his mail. "How?" He asked, tightly, "How did she find out I'm a child bearer? I thought the trial was very, VERY carefully protected and the only thing allowed out was who came and went, and baseless speculation. How does she know?"

"I do not know, my Dragon. But we will have to handle this, above and beyond just suing the Prophet. You will have to say something to the press as part of damage control." He nodded, still too upset to speak, and yet, knowing even if the idea infuriated him, his mother was, as always, correct. "Now, Dragon, tell me about what that awful woman had to say about Veela courting rituals and you having the throne as a Regent until your children come of age."

They spent the better part of the next two hours talking, before the solicitors joined in. Then another hour of conversation, plotting, and general planning of the destruction of the Prophet, and everyone left. Draco was once again, all alone. He worried that all of this would change Harry's mind, and even though it was improper, set about to write to Harry. He hoped a letter would help soothe over any worries, as well as help with some courtship concerns.

Harry had managed to leave a scroll for Draco when he dashed out; it contained the Potter courtship rules. Apparently, as Christians, they needed to maintain purity, and to insure that, they needed a chaperone for there in-person dates. Draco needed to know if Harry had selected one or not. Nadine was *NOT* allowed, though she had most assuredly offered. She had stuck around long enough, even after the Aurors had been called to evict the howling masses of paparazzi, to give a scroll about Veela customs to Draco.

He had copied it, and the Malfoy scroll, and sent them with his letter, as well as a small book, _Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts, _as his first gift – a sign of his acceptance of the courtship. Technically, he was to wait until Harry had sent him one, thus, again, highly improper, but with the mess Nadine had caused, Draco was not so sure a gift would even be coming if he had waited. This would show despite everything, he was still serious and still interested, hopefully that would mean something to Harry. He seemed to value courage.

The only paper, well the only British paper; that had anything remotely nice to say about the whole mess had been the Quibbler. So, Draco wrote to them. He would take his mother's advice and give them an interview.

**Harry's PoV, 9 days after the Gala:**

Harry's temper had long since cooled, the letter filled with apologies, explanations, and general groveling he had received from Draco had gone a long way towards that. The letter he had received from Draco's solicitor, inviting him and his solicitor to join in on a lawsuit against the Prophet had done the rest. So, it was a peaceful brunet that sat at his kitchen table, eating a forkful of his eggs, and reading out of his new book. He had to admit, Draco had good taste. The Marauders would have loved this; in fact, he had plans to loan it to George to help with the business. Fred would have loved it, too.

He wasn't certain what to think about, or even if he should think about, his flying wizard anymore. He went to the club that night, fully intent upon it being his very last time. The owner, the bartender had told him, was not in. He had a previous engagement at some gala opening thingie or other. Harry, with sinking heart, knew exactly what event that was, and exactly what he had thus witnessed. Even had Harry not meant to be fair with this courtship, he now had no chance with his hot mystery wizard ever again.

When the owl flew in, tossing a rolled up newspaper, tied with twine and wrapped in a letter from Hermione, Harry was amused. She sent her Quibbler whenever there was something good, knowing he did not maintain a subscription. Usually, he just read whatever she had to say about it, and replied. So, as usual, he opened her letter first.

_Harry,_

_You'll never believe this! Read it, write me back. Better yet, firecall me when you've read it, and I'll floo over and we'll talk. This is so unbelievable!_

_Hermione Granger-Weasley_

Intrigued, Harry opened the rolled up pamphlet. Sadly, he had just taken a drink of his pumpkin juice when he read the headline Veela Tells All! Draco Malfoy Speaks Out after Gala Disaster! Harry spit his juice all over the paper. A combination of Scourgify and Evanesco removed the mess, and a Reparo set the words, mostly, to rights. Yet, even after all that, it was still too hard to read. Sighing, Harry gave the last of his eggs to the owl, and tucked a Knut into the pouch tied to its leg. "Go buy me a Quibbler, and go home after giving it to me. I have no new message for your owner."

The owl hooted its response; then flew off. Harry started in on his crepes, mutilating them with his fork, while he waited. Covered in strawberries and whipped cream, they were normally a treat; today, however, they were just something else to force down while he fretted. _Why did Draco do this? What was he thinking_? Harry didn't even notice he had started thinking of Draco by his first name, rather than his last.

The owl returned, flung the paper at him, quickly spinning and winging out again. Harry almost did not manage to catch it before it knocked over his juice glass, forcing him to buy a third copy. Almost didn't, but with his Seeker reflexes, he did manage, and saved the paper and his breakfast. Breakfast he set aside, as he began to read.

_Recently, at the St. Raphael's School of Healing and Magical/Medical Library Grand Opening Gala, there was a little bit of a shock and scandal as Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, publically asked Draco Malfoy, former Death Eater and first male Veela in centuries, for permission to court. Since then, there have been dozens of allegations and rumors flying. Today, Draco Malfoy has chosen to sit here, with me, __Marietta Edgecombe__, in an exclusive interview and set the story straight._

_**Marietta:**__ First off, Draco, I need to know why you're doing this?_

_**Draco: **__Well, Marietta, if I may call you that?_

_**Marietta:**__ Of course._

_**Draco: **__Then, Marietta, I am trying to put a stop to the rumors, cut down on potential suitors, and set straight all the guesswork and lies. I'm also hoping that if I do this once, now, I won't have to do this ever again. If I waited, I might have to do several interviews instead of just the one._

_**Marietta:**__ So this will be your only interview then?_

_**Draco:**__ About the courtship and about the mess of the Gala? Yes, this will be the only one._

_**Marietta:**__ Then you're not going to even give one to the Prophet?_

_**Draco: **__Well, it would be a bit unethical to sue them over what they are printing in hopes they will stop, and then give them an interview asking them to continue, now wouldn't it?_

_**Marietta: *laughs***__ Why, yes, I suppose it would. So, that answers one of my next questions, you really are suing the Prophet then?_

_**Draco:**__ Yes, for both Libelous and Slanderous words both spoken and printed._

_**Marietta: **__Spoken?_

_**Draco:**__ The things they shouted, and continue to shout, at me and others as they try to provoke a response they can twist and then print into a malicious version of a story._

_**Marietta:**__ My, you do dislike them, don't you?_

_**Draco: **__Wouldn't you?_

_**Marietta:**__ I suppose I would. Now onto the heart of the matter, did Harry Potter really ask to court you publicly at the Gala, and did you know he was planning to?_

Harry took a deep breath. So. Draco did this to put an end to the chaos, did he? Did he really think this would do anything accept encouraging them? Well, he claimed to think it would get the vultures off their backs, and he was suing… maybe, just maybe, Harry could trust Draco. He still did not agree, however. This would end badly, he was sure.

_**Draco:**__ He did, and I had hoped. He had written me previously stating his intent, but I knew it was not legitimate without a public declaration. So, I sent him a ticket to the Gala and hoped for the best. I must say I was surprised and delighted. _

_**Marietta: **__Does this mean you are interested in our Savior?_

_**Draco:**__ Who wouldn't be? He's smart, funny, brave, handsome... the list goes on and on!_

_**Marietta:**__ Is there any truth to you having feelings for him during your school years, then?_

_**Draco:**__ Oh, certainly. There were feelings of hurt, bitterness, anger, jealousy… we were rivals, after all. Then, we were on the opposite sides of a war, and were enemies. Positive feelings, though, well let's just say I was neither blind nor stupid. I was also bound to Pansy for the majority of that time._

_**Marietta:**__ We'll address your bonding in a moment, now however; I want to ask about the War. You obviously were not loyal – your Mark has faded, and you are not sickening. So, why were you, as a child, even involved at all, much less on the wrong side?_

_**Draco:**__ That's complicated. Firstly, my father jointed during the first war, before I was ever born. I think I was promised at my birth to the Dark Lord. Secondly, I was raised, however wrongly, to believe in those principles. Some, like religious freedom, I do still believe in. Muggleborn rights and our hiding from Muggles should not take away the rights of the Witches and Wizards currently practicing magic. Thirdly, my family was threatened. As the Dark Lord was living in my house, there was quite honestly no protecting them; he could send his pet snake to eat them in their sleep. I had no choice but to help him, or let them die. What would you choose? And, finally, because there really was no other option. After the war, I learned the side of the Light had known about my plight the entire time; my own Godfather was their spy. I could have been offered help at any time, but only was once when circumstances partly engineered by the side of the Light made acceptance impossible. In short, they used me, and the fact I was a Death Eater without my knowledge or consent, and it helped them to win the war. I never had a choice, both sides wanted me to take the Mark._

_**Marietta:**__ That's… wow. That's just.. um.. you sound a little bitter, but I can't say I blame you. So, do you hold any of this against Harry? And, do you think this, or any of your past rivalries, will negatively impact your courtship?_

_**Draco:**__ It was years ago. I've gotten past it, I hope he has too. We'll have to talk about it eventually, I'm sure, but, the past only gives us the power we choose. And, no, I don't hold anything against Harry. He was a child, too, and he was just as used. We both had a role to play and no choice but to play it. It is the future that matters now._

_**Marietta:**__ That's very mature of you._

_**Draco:**__ Well, I am 22 now, not 12._

_**Marietta: *laughs***__ So you are, so you are! Speaking of 12, that's when you were bonded, correct? What can you tell us about that?_

_**Draco:**_

Harry paused, not quite sure what to think. He'd never before thought too deeply about why safety had not been offered to Draco. He knew Dumbledore offered his protection the night he died, but Draco was right, he'd never had a chance to accept, not with Snape intruding and other Death Eaters right on his heels. He knew just how bitter he had been over the manipulation he'd experienced at Dumbledore's hands; he now wondered just how much hatred for the old man Draco must have.

He also was surprised at how Draco seemed to think of him. It was certainly a better view than he had of Draco, but did he really want that? He also wasn't sure he wanted to hear anything more than he had already learned in the trial about Draco and Pansy's bonding. That was private after all, and how would he feel if everyone stuck their nose into his and Ginny's failed relationship? Would he be bothered if Draco knew everything about it? Yes, he would. So, it stood to reason Draco might be upset if he knew all about Pansy. Then again, he was the one answering questions in the newspaper…

_**Draco:**__ Our fathers arranged it. It should not have been permanent, but something went wrong. Pansy and I have only ever been good friends, bond or no bond. She's going to be married to her fiancé, whom she has been seeing for the last two years, later this year. I hope to be invited. _

_**Marietta:**__ So, you never had anything with Pansy?_

_**Draco:**__ Just friendship._

_**Marietta:**__ How about anyone else? Any hidden boyfriends whom might be hurt by this sudden courtship?_

_**Draco:**__ No, because of the bonds and my past, dating has really been impossible. This will be the first time I've ever really dated at all._

Harry was so shocked he dropped his paper. Had he not set breakfast aside earlier, it would have fallen right into his plate. He stood, and paced around the table, muttering to himself. Harry was really starting to regret listening to Hermione and giving in to Nadine. He was also really starting to hate the idea of courting Draco – for a whole new reason.

After a while, he finally sat back down, went to pick his paper up again, stopped, and started again, stopped, and so on for a few minutes. After he finally built up his Gryffindor courage, he picked up the paper and continued reading. He vowed this time to finish, no matter how upsetting, or in what way, what he read might be.

_**Marietta: **__No dating at all? Do you even know if you like men, then?_

_**Draco:**__ Oh, certainly. Men are just brilliant. I've known since puberty I've always fancied men. I just have not had a chance to do more than look and imagine before now._

_**Marietta:**__ Have you had many crushes then?_

_**Draco: **__Now that's a little too personal!_

_**Marietta:**__ Okay, then. How about telling me this: since you were on opposite sides in the war, had no previous interaction outside a school rivalry which did not hide any sort of romantic feelings or relationship, why then did Harry Potter wish to initiate a courtship with you?_

_**Draco:**__ He did not tell me, and I felt it would be too rude to ask._

_**Marietta:**__ Does that mean my question was rude?_

_**Draco:**__ A little, but I was expecting some when I came here so it is fine._

_**Marietta:**__ I'm sorry__**;**__ I'll try to be a little less presumptuous, then. We're almost done! So, Can you tell me some about these courtship rules I've been hearing about?_

_**Draco:**__ A little, yes, but not too much. I want to limit my suitors and one way I'm eliminating then is rule breaking. So if I tell you too much, it defeats my purpose. Basically, what the Black and Malfoy rules are is a set of guidelines or rules, each noble house establishes to protect the bloodlines during a formal courtship by suitable suitors. For the Veela, from what I have read, it is similar – to help the Veela find their best match and establish a soul bond so the Veela and any children may survive. _

_**Marietta: **__Do you intend to have children? Can you, as rumored, have children?_

_**Draco: **__Any male in the Wizarding world can be a child bearer if they so choose. There are potions, spells, and rituals; all sorts of things available. I can, however, get pregnant certain times of the year without all that, or so the Veela Council has informed me. I do want kids; I need them for keeping the lines clear, at least three – one for the Veela royal line, one for the Malfoy line, and one for the Black. Additionally, the Veela Council is begging me to allow the use of a Muggle procedure for some Veela females to carry some children for me, so there will be more male Veelas with wider genes than just my mate and mine. Less inbreeding, I suppose._

_**Marietta: **__And do you want that? _

_**Draco:**__ Well, I want to help the Veela race out, but I'm not sure I like the method of their choosing. I really have not decided, but if I do choose to do that, my mate will have to be okay with adopting children that are not his. Likewise, should he have other children, I will adopt them._

_**Marietta:**__ That's fair of you. Now, tell me about limiting your courtships, and how these rules can help – or what you can without 'defeating your purpose' as you so aptly put it._

_**Draco:**__ With courtships of British nobility, in very few instances, I am allowed to refuse at any point; so many potential suitors will be refused outright, with little to no reason ever given. I except in very few circumstances, meaning they can court me, but I am not in turn courting them. The Veela accept almost anyone, if they can pass the elimination trials, of which there are no fewer than 7. Some of these are universal, some are up to me and may be either universal to all potential suitors and some may be specific to see if a specific suitor is worth keeping or eliminating. Since Nadine decided to summon the press to the Gala and make her announcement following Harry's request for courtship, I have too many, in some cases international, potential suitors to handle without help. I will be requesting the Veela Council's aid, since I feel this mess is in part, their responsibility. However, I do not want Nadine involved._

_**Marietta:**__ Why is she being singled out?_

_**Draco:**__ It's personal._

_**Marietta:**__ Okay, moving on. So what does this interview have to do with eliminating some of your potential suitors and courtships?_

_**Draco:**__ Well, I'm going to give three of my universal trials that anyone even hoping to be considered here. One: As my future child will be taking the throne as King or Queen, I want to help the Veela nation grow as much as possible. So, whoever wants to be my mate must do something to significantly improve conditions for the Veela nation. _

_**Marietta:**__ That eliminates anyone not noble or not very wealthy._

_**Draco:**__ Not necessarily. It just requires creativity, something the poor often have much more of than the wealthy or the privileged._

_**Marietta: **__I suppose. Second?_

_**Draco: **__They must love kids and a willingness to have a large family, possibly a willingness to adopt. I believe I've already mentioned that, and why. I want proof, however, that it is so._

_**Marietta:**__ Proving something that has not happened yet will be hard._

_**Draco: **__That's why it is a challenge._

_**Marietta: **__I'll agree with that. Third?_

_**Draco:**__ Citizenship. I refuse to give up Britain, and so if not currently a British citizen, all potential suitors must apply for either dual citizenship or begin the process of changing their citizenship. _

_**Marietta: **__That will make it very hard on other Magical Beings; is it your intention to eliminate them from consideration and only date Wizards?_

_**Draco:**__ No. In fact, the Veela are currently pushing legislation through the Wizengamot that should change how Wizarding Britain deals with Magical Beings. I wish them all the luck, and know they can use all the help there they can get._

_**Marietta:**__ Subtle hint there for your potential suitors?_

_**Draco:**__ Maybe, maybe not. It could be used that way, but I'd like to think if they want to date me, who was a Slytherin, a House known for cunning, they would show more creativity than to just do that. It was more a hint to your readers, so they could also get involved._

_**Marietta: **__Well, I think we've just about covered everything I could hope for, and in some cases more, in this interview. Can you think of anything you'd like to add?_

_**Draco:**__ Only one, I am setting a time limit as well. I will accept no new suitors after the end of this month, in 18 days._

_**Marietta: **__ That's it then and thank you for your time._

_**Draco:**__ You're welcome, and thank you as well._

Harry leaned back in his chair. Contemplative he rubbed his nose, where his glasses sometimes pinched. Hermione wanted to discuss this, and he, after reading it, could definitely see why. He needed to talk to her, too. First, though, he needed to think.


	14. house

Disclaimer: I dreamed the other day I actually own something. It was, alas, just a dream.

**Draco's PoV two weeks after his interview was published, about noon:**

The blond was circling his home, mother in tow, tossing last minute straightening and cleaning spells. Harry was coming here, and everything had to be absolutely perfect for their first date. Absolutely. Perfect. His home was a flat, or rather two flats side by side purchased separately then joined into one. Magic had helped both speed and smooth the transition into the luxury apartment it was now.

It even had the American imported luxury of a master bath! The twin kitchens had become one very large one, with both Muggle and magical conveniences. Draco loved the Muggle dishwasher and the magical self-washing sink equally. The cabinets and pantry had been charmed to help find ingredients, opening appropriate doors whenever something was asked for, and the Muggle refrigerator kept everything spoilable fresh.

Draco would cook closer to the time, clean one last time afterwards, and then dress. This inspection ended, his mother led him to the wardrobe in his bedroom. "Now, Dragon, let's talk a bit while we choose something appropriate for you to wear."

He sat down, nervous and fidgeting. Narcissa flicked passed all Draco's blue jeans without comment. "Robes are too formal for a dinner in the home... oh, Draco, why don't you start with telling me about something I read in your interview, will you dear?"

Draco winced. That was her warning tone; whatever she had read she didn't like, and he had said it. He was in for it now, adult living on his own or not. "Tell me, my Dragon how will the Veela Council be helping you with your courting?" He breathed a sigh of relief, this was an easy one.

"They will be checking all my messages for spells, and disarming them before I get them. They have charmed 'in' boxes for junk, threats, encouragement, suitors, harassment, etc. to sort my mail so I don't have to. They enchanted one of those Muggle computers for me so it needs no Muggle power, and will run what they call a spreadsheet. It is charmed to automatically track who did what for my trials, who gave what for gifts, who I have seen, who I haven't, and my likes and dislikes amongst my suitors. Additionally, they have agreed to pay for any gifts I do not choose to personally select from my own vaults or to make, like tonight's dinner, on my own. Dates they will split the cost of with my suitors, excepting things like tonight, which cost nothing."

Narcissa smiled, pleased, not that Draco could see as her back was to him. She was halfway through his suits now, having pulled out two already. "That sounds fine, my Dragon. Now tell me about these trials for your suitors, to start with, has Harry done the first three?"

Draco winced, now this one would get him into trouble. Maybe. "Well, he hasn't adopted Teddy yet, like we keep hoping, but I'll be bringing up the children issue tonight. Obviously he's already a British citizen."

"Draco..." her warning tone again, and another suit.

"He put the Black and Potter courting lists up in the Ministry for copies. Anyone that wants one now has to go there and pay three Sickles, one as a copy fee for the Ministry, one to the Veela treasury, and 10 Knuts to me personally, 10 Knuts for himself, and the remaining 9 go to the Healer's school!" Draco said in a rush, hoping to forestall the lecture that was about to come. Narcissa stopped moving in the wardrobe. A few minutes passed, then straightening to her full height, she turned to face her son, a look of wonder upon her face.

"Did he really? That helps the Veela, you, your future children, and your pet charity. There have been a lot of people interested in the courting rules, then?"

Draco nodded, thinking just how full the new vault, set up to handle this new source of income, already was. He quietly named a figure, a high figure, in Galleons, which at 493 Knuts to a single Galleon was very, very impressive.

Narcissa frowned. "All of them cannot be interested in courting you, no matter how popular you suddenly are. So, exactly how many suitors does Harry Potter have that you must now compete with?"

Draco paled; not because he had not already been wondering, but because he had no answer. He honestly did not know, and could not, in good conscience ask. It would be rude. But, so far, Harry seemed happy with him. They had exchanged letters, and he had finally gotten his first gift… his first gift! He had not yet told nor shown Narcissa, and that could turn her mind from her current line of questions! Draco brightened.

"I do not know, Mother. Oh, Mum," he began, his tone deceptively light, "would you like to know about what Harry gave me as his first courting gift?" Now, this gift was difficult to give as Black and Malfoy traditions were both being observed. Black traditions only dictated gifts must be given, and the permission of giving them via post rather than in person, to preserve privacy. Not that they had to be given by post; just that they could be.

Malfoy rules, however, were a different story. Gifts had to have specific meanings at specific times. Oh, meaningless presents could be thrown into the mix as well, but certain gifts, important ones, such as the start of the courtship – those were assigned. The first gift was 'knowledge,' which is why Draco had sent Harry a book. Harry had thought a lot about it, more than Draco had, apparently. Knowing Draco had just sponsored the creation of a school and library, he had given Draco a year's pass to all productions, exhibits, and exhibitions put on or displayed by the Wizarding Academy of Dramatic Arts. A full year of free art for Draco to enjoy!

He handed his pass to his mother, and watched her expression turn incredulous. These passes were notoriously hard to find, almost impossible to get. They involved being a donor of the highest amount. Higher in fact than Draco had yet to even hit just in guessing alone.

**Harry's PoV, same day, tea:**

Harry looked at his letter again. Draco had been very appreciative of his gift, which left him oddly conflicted. Hermione, guilt-ridden after reading Draco's eye-opening interview had pushed for a confession and to end it. Harry had disagreed, not wanting to waste suffering he'd already experienced, not now when it was beginning to work. Draco was looking for his mate, and need never be hurt by the truth. Hermione had been less than easy to convince, however she approved of the 'push him away' approach Harry currently had planned.

Re-gifting that useless pass one of the many rejects enamored with 'the Chosen One' had been part of that plan. So much for bad gifts. Still, while part of Harry, the part firmly set on pushing aside Draco, was disappointed a small part he did not understand was thrilled. Draco not only liked it, he had loved it and in his very effusive praise, Harry had come to some sort of understanding of just how valuable his 'useless' gift had been. That had sparked a whole other set of confusing emotions he did not fully understand, including a lot of guilt to both Draco and the original giver.

Luna Longbottom, nee Lovegood, had applied the day after the interview to be the chaperone. Knowing how much he delighted in her company, as well as just how few other people did, Harry accepted. The first date had not even happened yet, and he already regretted his choice, feeling like he was using one of his few true friends.

She would be arriving here by broom with Neville, and she would accompany Harry to Draco's for an informal dinner. Neville would stay at Harry's, watching the time and waiting for them both to return. To have never had a living parent watching over him, it felt suspiciously like a teenager's first date with a parent watching for the curfew. Harry resented it. But, then, he resented most of the whole affair, after all. This was just one more thing on a whole pile of trouble.

Harry continued fretting and worrying in this vein for the two hours he had left before Luna and Neville were scheduled to show. He never even ate his tea.

They arrived, right on time, Neville with a standard, friendly hello, Luna with a bit more unique a greeting. "Harry, it's good to see you, but I'm sorry you aren't feeling well," she said. When asked why she thought he was feeling poorly, by both Harry and Neville, she responded, "Something must be troubling you because your head is full of Waxspurts. It can't be your date, so I thought you must be under the weather. No matter." With that, she skipped off to the Apparition point. Harry just shook his head, and followed, grabbing her elbow as he prepared to side-along.

**Narrator's PoV, same day, around 5 Draco's home:**

Popping back into existence, right where they should be, Harry only stumbled a little. He hated Apparition sometimes. Flying really was best. He followed Luna in, as she was skipping once more, and found Draco levitating piles of dishes loaded with food onto a table in a richly appointed dining room. The table was set for three, and the home was neither cold and colorless nor Slytherin green; either of which Harry would have expected.

Instead, it was warm, with a rich cream wall color, and a medium dark walnut stain hardwood floor. The table and chairs were a slightly lighter shade, and the chairs upholstered in a vibrant rust color. The chandelier, rather than plain clear glass, had brilliantly sparkling red glass lampshades and reflective prisms in shades of reds, oranges, and yellows hanging in looping patterns. There was a window, meant to allow sight into the kitchen, with the stain glass image of a Muggle Weeping Willow curving around from the lower left to the middle right, with the center open and clear for viewing.

Draco smiled, not the brilliant beaming smile from the Gala, but a wide one nonetheless, and Harry was momentarily stunned. He would have never believed Draco could look so attractive. Or that he could have a dimple on his right cheek. He gestured for Harry to sit, as he pulled out the chair for Luna, good breeding showing in his gracious hosting skills. "Welcome, can I get you anything to drink? I have tea, milk, water, pumpkin juice and butterbeer."

Luna asked for pumpkin juice, Harry went for the same. He was stunned at the transformation; Draco was friendly and open, nothing like the person he had known. Draco was nervous, and if it was not for the rigorous training his mother and father put him through, he'd be fidgeting up a storm, probably stuttering, too. He was praying neither Harry nor Luna noticed the slight shake of his hand as he poured their glasses before sitting down to join them.

Harry whispered a quick, quiet prayer in Jesus' name blessing the meal. Luna raised her eyebrows and chanted in Gaelic something to Morrigan. Draco kept to his habit, and remained silent. After they all had piled their plates, and begun to eat, it was Luna who broke the silence. "Draco, your hand is shaking from a nervnatter infestation. Perhaps you should sit and take a few deep breaths to clear them from the area?" Rats, Draco thought, she noticed my nerves!

He nodded at her, while Harry smothered a laugh. Who would have ever thought, Draco Malfoy, nervous over a simple dinner! That made Draco seem human and approachable to Harry more than anything else. He now felt comfortable striking up a conversation with him. Luna just smiled at the both placidly.

"So, Draco, I noticed you did not pray over dinner, and during the trial you mentioned believing in multiple faiths. Can you tell me more about that?" Draco tensed a moment when the trial was mentioned. He had strongly suspected, alright he had known, Harry had been there, but that did not make him feel better about it. Now, it seemed Harry was one of the privileged not bound by the spells, one of the 'witnesses.' Draco forced his muscles to unclench, there was nothing unusual in Harry's being selected, after all. He forced himself to focus only on the question.

"Certainly. And, I'll do it using just the ones that affect us here, in the Great Britain! The Picts were first settlers here in these lands, and the Celtic religion is strongly derivative from their beliefs, you should know of the Banshees they believed in. Then the Saxons, who were of Viking origins, and some of the animals you should be familiar with from Care of Magical Creatures were found in their myths, such as the Giant Squid, and even Nessie. Then came the Anglos, bringing with them belief in elves and dragons, and the desire to negotiate with them. They worshiped the Woden. Romans and with them Greeks conquered all of Europe. I'm descended from one cursed by their Gods, if you believe I'm a Veela. They left, and Normans invaded next, bringing their Christianity, which Muggle historians are constantly digging up proof about. So, they all have left some evidence, most of it living, breathing evidence. How can I deny any?"

Harry was impressed, though not quite convinced. After all, just because they were right about the existence of certain creatures, did not mean they were right about their Gods. So, the two debated, between eating, and the odd comment from Luna, for about twenty minutes. Surprisingly to both of the men, it was all in good spirits and with a healthy dose of laughter, despite the serious nature of the topic. Neither wanted to offend nor took offence at any point.

Then Luna decided it was time for a subject change. "Draco you're surrounded by wigglewims, which only seem to surround those who overuse glamour charms. I really don't see why someone as attractive as you would need them." Her totally out of the blue comment stumped both men for a moment, and for a brief, awkward pause, total silence reigned.

Draco broke the silence this time. "Harry, tell me about how you feel about kids." Harry, who had been enjoying himself thus far, had totally forgotten about his plan to drive Draco away. Thus, when he was asked a question with the potential to be a bomb in any developing relationship, he forgot to answer in a calculated to offend manner, instead responding with pure honesty.

"I love kids, and want a huge family. One day, I want a bigger family than Mrs. Weasley. I know I have the coin to support as many children and grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren without anyone ever having to work. I'd want them to, though. Work, I mean. It would be good for them. I believe that hard work builds character and want my children to experience the worthwhile feeling of an honest day's work." He hoped he had not offended Draco too much, as he suspected had the ministry not taken Draco's wealth, not that you could tell, he'd have been content to never work.

It was to his surprise when instead of arguing, Draco nodded his agreement. "Too true. I was raised to work, and intend to raise my children the same. Even if it is staying home and being a parent, it is still work, and working gives a person a sense of purpose and value." They both smiled, pleased in their mutual agreement.

"So, if you were raised to work, what would you have done had the Ministry not taken… well, besides the Manor, what did they take?" Harry, who was not raised with the same etiquette beaten into him Draco was, never realized just how big a gaff he made. Draco chose to ignore it, in favor of closeness, and just answered him.

"Well, I would have done the same thing and been a business man. Initially, they took nothing from Pansy, everything from Mother and I related to the Malfoy estates, and most of her Black inheritances and dowries. We were left an estate in Kent for mother, one of the two flats making up this home, a gold vault for the each of us, and one vault with Black heirlooms. I sold the property in Kent, spent a third of that money on the flat next door, and made them into one, bigger flat for the three of us. Then, I began investing. When I needed to, I borrowed from the Parkinsons, but I always paid them back before any other bill. I did have some losses, but mostly I chose wisely, and within three years was able to open my first business, something of my own rather than just stocks in businesses run by others. It was wildly successful, and here I am; slowly rebuilding the Malfoy estates and regaining our lost fortunes. Mother has her own home again, as did Pansy even before the bond broke. I give to charities I like, or design my own, but never more than I plan or account for in my saving goals."

Harry was flummoxed. Draco's idea of poverty was most people's idea of rich beyond their wildest dreams. Even supposedly stripped of wealth, he had been fantastically wealthy. Harry suddenly wondered if they would ever be able to understand each other, coming as they did from two totally different worlds, in so very many ways.

Luna again interrupted, saving the evening. "Speaking of children, I love Teddy because his Metamorphmagi abilities keep the kinklewizzles away. They fill people with negative emotions and only true happiness and laughter can chase them away. Harry perhaps you really should spend more time with him, to prevent them from nesting in your hair." Her expression never altered from one of perfectly angelic and innocent the entire time she spoke.

Draco saw the opening he had been looking for and decided to take it. "Teddy's your Godson, is he not? How much time do you spend with him? Would you ever think about adopting him?"

Harry was surprised, and wondered where the question came from, then remembered the article. He also, sadly, remembered his plan. Fairly certain Draco would disapprove of being related to any child of Lupin's, he remembered the dislike in Hogwarts, as well as disowned Andromeda's grandchild, he resolved himself to be honest. Scaring Draco off was best, and knowing he wanted Teddy would do it, he was sure. "I try to spend every other weekend with him. Yes, I would, if I were married, and when I am I will. But, for now, he needs more stability than he would get living with me." The brunet's voice went a little sad at the end. If he could take him married or not, he would take Teddy in a heartbeat. But, Teddy's needs came first.

Draco was beaming. He knew it! "I told her! I told Andromeda!"

"What?"

"Aunt Andromeda, I told her you'd" and Harry interrupted, voice cold, before Draco could finish speaking.

"When did you talk to Andromeda Tonks? What did you say to her? Did you threaten her in any way? If you upset her, I swear!" He stood to leave, as Draco just gaped, hurt and confusion swimming in his eyes. Luna just grabbed Harry's sleeve.

"Wait, Harry." A surprisingly normal comment from the usually unique Luna.

"I.. I started talking to her a year after the war, we talk at least every other month.." And so, slowly, Draco recounted his association with his family to Harry. Jaw unclenching, Harry realized the boy he'd seen Draco with at the park had been Teddy. He wondered what other surprises this man had in store for him. "And then, when she asked me if I wanted to adopt him, I said it would be," and then he found out.

He interrupted again with, "Wait, what? She asked YOU to adopt Teddy? Why?"

"Umm.. yes, well, because," Draco was finally reduced to stuttering. The boy who had been the only one to bring emotions out breaking his mask in school, usually rage, had grown into the man with the same gift, but a wider range. Draco was so worried, he could not blow this, and this was not going at all like he had hoped, not at all! "because she thought you didn't want to since you hadn't already. She wants the best for him, and thinks she's too old. But, I told her you did want Teddy and she should ask you. It wouldn't be fair of me to take him when you wanted him, I told her. I knew you wanted him."

Surprisingly, Harry listened, and his arms uncrossed, and he sat back down, and though he did not admit it even to himself, his heart softened just a little towards one Draco Malfoy. As they finished up there meal, even though the desserts and the coffee after, they had pleasant small talk. They talked about odd things, like the Greek and Roman origins to names in the Black and Malfoy families, and normal things like favorite songs from their mutual favorite band growing up – the Weird Sisters. Luna interjected with comments of her own unique flavor whenever things seemed too boring, and all too soon it was time to end, and Harry and Luna Apparited back to Harry's, where Neville was waiting to take Luna home.


	15. home

Disclaimer: Na-na-na-na, hey, hey, hey I own squat!

**Draco's PoV, two and a half months after the first date:**

Draco had plenty of time to get used to the idea of seeing one Hermione Granger-Weasley on a semi-regular basis. She had been invited to join the Veela council and was working with the Wizengamot on the new Magical Being treaties, after all. So, today, when He and Harry were finally able to see the Seer Circle, at last allowed to come to London from some small town near Paris, he wasn't surprised. Having not really been around the two at the same time, however, he was a little unsure of how to act. Draco was his usual, hidden expressionless self around her. Around him, walls that came only halfway down for family did not even exist. So, Draco was very concerned.

But, today was important. During a game of cards during their last date, Draco had managed to convince Harry to go first. Draco didn't know who his soul mate was, and really, he didn't want to. He already had Harry; Harry who was the first man to want him, and the first to care for him, and the only one to make him feel this way. He had been on several first dates, okay, twenty now, with other men, and so far only three had survived to a second date. Even those three had nothing on Harry. Silver eyes blinked in worry, if he never found out who his soul mate was, he would be allowed to be with whomever he felt the closest to that he could form a soul bond with. The blond could never, ever imagine feeling closer to anyone than he felt to Harry.

He stood, looking at the makeshift tent, wondering how much longer Harry would be in there, and what exactly was going on. Large and as multicolored as any circus tent, it easily fit the dozen or so blond, blue eyed women whom had trooped in before Harry. He had seen them all sit in a large circle before the hangings had fallen closed. What if they saw Harry's soul mate and it wasn't him? Would he lose Harry today?

The circus tent coloring reminded him of Teddy, and his last family outing with the boy, which in turn reminded him of his most recent visit. It had been with Harry, and had been an eye-opening experience. They had gone to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, now run by his children. They had tried to run Draco out, and Harry had intervened. Teddy had tried a Bertie's Beans flavored ice cream, and changed his hair color with every bite. He had ended up with more smeared around his mouth, in his hair, and on his shirt, than he had actually eaten. Harry learned that Draco was an expert on cleaning children's messes and other household spells. Draco had learned, as they had returned and put Teddy down for his nap, Harry was best at telling bedtime stories.

It had opened a hole in Draco's heart, that night. The blond had wanted a family before, but that night had shown him exactly what it would be like to share a child, and the love of that child, with someone for whom you care deeply. The desire he felt for that feeling was like a living, breathing entity, burning in his soul.

Those memories only led to other pleasant ones. Gifts given and received, like the gloves of dragon's skin and small dragon's eggshell bowl Harry had given Draco. The note had said, "For when you want to start learning about your fireballs." Draco had thought it brilliant, and timed perfectly. He had just sent off a book on using staffs instead of wands, and a staff he had crafted himself with Harry in mind.

The note he included told Harry about the wood, the stain, and the use of multiple birthstones, ones from different traditions, including modern European, ancient Roman, Hindu and Egyptian. The largest stone, and the topper, was an Onyx, like all the stones, a July, this one European and one for 'medicinal power and invisibility.' Draco had felt it appropriate.

Dumbledore had used a staff on occasion, though he had still favored his wand. His frog card had him with his staff, though. Staves could not spelled away with Expelliarmus, either. Harry had been both pleased and disquieted.

Neither had started using their gifts yet, but had promised to train together soon. They also, upon learning part of Veela courtship required Draco to have form mastery, agreed to train shapeshifting together. Harry would gather the ingredients, make the potion releasing his inner form, cast the spell, and then learn the wandless, wordless transfiguration spell to take his Animagus form. Finally, they would practice shifting together. Draco could hardly wait.

Speaking of waiting, Harry had been in there a long time. Had they Seen his soul mate? Were they plotting to put them together? Was Draco going to have his heart broken for the very first time?

Draco smiled sadly, Harry would not break him. Though it was actually part of the Veela traditions, and one Draco had been horrified to learn, proving strength through dominating publically was also something Draco's suitor would have to do. The scroll Nadine had provided even had hints as to how. Harry had tried to work with the hints, to find a way to satisfy the requirements without actually hurting him. Apparently, eating at his feet, using only his fingers, was one of the hints. Harry had taken him for couscous at a Moroccan restaurant. They both sat on the luxurious Persian rugs, and ate with so little grace the waiter had been horrified. The terms had been satisfied, and yet, they had been very much equal, even in their humiliation. No one that thoughtful would break his heart.

Thoughtful, heh. He had learned the charm to make origami birds fly in Hogwarts, but it was a few weeks ago he had taught the spell to Harry. Since then, every day had seen an origami bird, somehow more personal and special than anything set by owl, even when boring and mundane. They often were, in fact the more thoughtless they seemed, the more Draco reveled in them. He still laughed at the memory of one confused swan landing in a lousy date's soup. The note had said "I need your salad recipe, now." The poor man's annoyance and confusion had only made it funnier, and made him all the easier to dismiss.

The curtains twitched, and Harry came out. His face was drawn tight, and his lips pressed in an angry line. He gestured for Draco to enter the tent, stalking off before he had even so much as spoken a word. Frightened and confused, silver eyes blinked before carefully shutting all visible emotion behind a tight door in his heart. He steeled himself, and then went in.

It was less than two hours later when he came out again, looking much more frazzled than when he went in. He'd been forced to sit in the middle, shuffle cards for the card reader, two of his silky strands had been pulled out by the roots, a visionary held his off hand for focus, and a palm reader had grabbed his dominant hand. He'd been poked, prodded, and generally treated more like a lump of meat than a person, and all he'd gotten from it was a generic reference to strife coming before happiness. Oh, and the palm reader said he would have lots of children, from the many lines on the sides of his hands, until Draco had told her those were scars from his childhood potions classes.

He went looking for Harry, maybe they could have lunch together before they went back. Plus, his birthday had passed and Harry's was coming, perhaps they could do a belated for him and early for Harry mutual celebration? The ingredients for the Animagus potion would be Draco's gift to Harry, and they could start their training all the sooner…

"Harry, you don't mean it," Hermione's clear voice rang out like a beacon. And, like a beacon, Draco turned to follow it.

"Yes, Hermione, I do. You were right. I should have confessed to him then. Bloody hell, when you suggested it, when Nadine wanted me to use a life debt, before I met the blasted bint, there were so many places I could have done things differently!"

Draco slowed, what was Harry talking about? Well, he was almost to them, he would find out soon, right?

"They saw no one, Hermione. Not Ginny, not Draco, not then the wizard I actually AM attracted to instead of being obligated to date so he'll find HIS someone, and be left all alone! What's worse, 'Mione is I am actually starting to care. We could have been friends before this mess, now; when it's over I don't think we'll even have that. He deserves better."

Harry was shouting now, not that it made a difference. Draco had reached them, just in time to hear the words that made his heart stop and his world shatter. His eyes burned, but Draco refused to shed tears. "An obligation? That's all I am?" He laughed bitterly, broken. "And I was so happy to get your letter, to find out it wasn't just lust that had you stalking me in my own club! I danced for you, told you who I really was, and I don't do that for anyone! You didn't go to the papers, and you offered to court me. I believed you! I thought you actually cared about me, how stupid I was, yeah? You're right, Potter," Draco sneered with his once customary arrogance, and Harry flinched at the tone, "I deserve better than to be lied to and used. Consider your white card revoked, and I hereby renounce my status as Heir to the House of Black. I no longer am interested in your obligatory courtship!"

Draco turned and walked away, head high and proud even as he was breaking inside, Harry and Hermione too shocked to do anything to stop him.

It was Nadine, who had heard everything, that intercepted him before he could leave. "Draco? I know you are hurting now, but I may have a solution. The Council developed a set of spells, memory charms – we can help you forget you ever met anyone called Harry Potter, all the way back to your childhood. All the pain and humiliation you feel, will be gone, it will be as if he never even existed. The gapes would be filled, random, meaningless people for your childhood interactions. The gifts would have come from other suitors, ones rejected though the gifts you kept. The dates would never have happened. This pain, would be gone forever, your heart whole. Would you like that, Draco?"


	16. you reap

"For the Greater Good. We both know just how many lives, especially mine, have been manipulated and how little care was shown. But you know what else it meant, besides more pain and heartache for the person it was being used against? It meant he never really got over Grindelwald. Honestly, he killed his own lover, and did it for the same stupid saying and reasons his lover became dangerous! Everything he ever did, all the lies, and manipulations, all the heartache – always for the greater good. But what was so great about it? He never fixed anything; he just maintained the status quo. What's so great about the status quo, anyway? If you've got so many people wanting to throw in with a revolution to change things, things even he admitted were wrong; the status quo is obviously not the greater good! And he did admit they were wrong! He took in Remus, complaining about creature rights, he protected Hagrid, complaining about the treatment of half-breeds. Did he try to help change those things? No, he just expected lifelong gratitude and service from the ones he helped. That's not the greater good either; that's just pure selfishness! So what do I do? I act just like him!"

Harry waved his arm in a grandiose gesture, nearly falling off his stool at the Leaky Cauldron. Ron tried quieting him down, but like many people, Harry tended to have his drunken rants at the top of his lungs, offending whomever, and caring little about the consequences. It didn't help that Harry had been sober for nearly two months, something about showing signs of being an alcoholic and not wanting to end up like Ginny. "Harry," Ron started, more than a little concerned about the fall out this one would have, "Harry, stop. The git's not worth getting yourself worked up over."

"Yeah, just like him," the brunet continued, excessively filled with self-loathing, completely ignoring his friend's attempts at pacifying him. "I conned Draco into doing something I thought was for his best interests, without ever even asking him. You know, he might've died, if he refused, but he might not've. He might have found someone better, more deserving of him. Someone who took the time to ask if he even wanted to be a Veela King or Regent or whatever the bloody hell it is they're calling him!" He took a deep swig from his firewhiskey before continuing. "I bet he doesn't. I mean, why would anyone want something stuffy like that, especially when it would mean giving up everything else that made him happy. Like flying. Ron, you never did get to see it, but it was amazing. Nothing like it…"

Ron began tuning him out at this point. He'd already heard the rant about how Malfoy'd always been the only one he would obsess over. He'd heard that the brunet should've known, and how guilty he felt that he didn't. The terror that he'd wrecked his shot, because if he could see friendship in the Draco he'd come to know, and be attracted to the one he hadn't, together they could have been the best relationship he would have had. And he'd been too stupid and blind to put it together. Yes, Ron had already heard it. So, the fact Harry had circled back to it, still ranting and raving, and nearly blind drunk, didn't make him any happier.

Sighing, he stupefied his friend and firecalled his wife to pick them up. She could Apparite them back to their home, and Harry could sleep it off in the guest room. But, Harry was too drunk to travel by any means on his own, and Ron was too drunk to safely take them both. Tomorrow, the hangover potions would be popular.

The next day, true to predictions, hangover potions were in high demand. As Harry had been the more drunk, it was hardly surprising he had the greater need, but four was getting ridiculous. After he drank them, Ron and Hermione sat him down in their parlor. "Look, Mate," Ron started, ignoring the flinch Harry gave at the word 'mate,' "I know this has been rough on you but if he's not willing to stick around he's not worth it. You can do better than a smarmy git like Draco Malfoy!"

Hermione smacked him in the arm. "OW!" She glared, and he sighed, relenting. "Fine." He whispered to her, turning his attention back to a glowering Harry. "But, you also deserve to be happy. If he makes you happy go for it. Don't let how this mess started change anything. If you're sorry, tell him. Work it out. If you want him, chase him. Talk to people who know him, friends, family; get them to help you."

"He gave up being the Black heir to get away from me, I don't think I can really chase him after that." That was Harry's sad contribution, to the consternation of the two Granger-Weasleys.

A calculating look came into Hermione's eye, "Actually, Harry, if you did not accept, I don't think he's actually able to give up his position. You can re-name him at any time, after all."

"Really?" Some of the guilt and worry that had wound itself around the green-eyed man's heart began to loosen, and he began to have hope. If he could get Draco to talk to him, then he could explain, apologize, and ask for a second chance. If he was really lucky, he might even get Draco, when did he start being Draco, to share the memories of that night…

"I think I even know when and where you can next see him, to try and persuade him…"

Hermione was, as usual, a gold mine when it came to information. Some of the new laws and treaties had been passed, and wands were now recognized as sentient themselves. They were still not recognized as alive, of course. But, this was a radicle way of dealing with wands legally. This meant, amongst other things, no limits besides the ability to pay the wand's maker, could be placed upon ownership. If a wand chose a goblin, or a house elf, or anyone else, that was the wand's master.

As direct result, Ollivanders' had been overrun, and as overstocked as they had previously been, were now dangerously low. To help the Veela, Draco had agreed to occasionally help out as a core material locator, and his wages were sent to the Veela treasury. He had started to think about the people before himself.

In two days, he would be going with Hagrid and Neville into the Forbidden forest. Hagrid would help with the magical creatures and beings, Neville with the plants. Draco was hoping to thoroughly supply Ollivanders' in as few trips as possible, and had convinced those two to help. That would be Harry's chance. He could join in, and talk to Draco while he was there.

As to what he would say, and the best way to get him to listen, well, Hermione didn't know but she agreed with Ron's suggestion. Ask friends and family. Harry knew at least one member of Draco's family that should have no problem helping him – Andromeda. He would write her today, and go see her tomorrow, then with luck, sweep Draco off his feet the next day!

Harry was suddenly feeling a lot more optimistic about the future.

Surprisingly, Andromeda was not willing to wait. When Harry sent his letter, asking to meet her the next day for advice, she sent the owl right back. She told him to come today, after four, while Teddy was down for his nap. So, a little anxious, he did.

He'd explained the situation as best he could, while Andromeda sipped tea and listened. When he was finished, she set her cup down, clinking against its saucer. "Well, I did warn him you were fickle."

"What?" Harry was astounded, and a little offended.

"Harry, you never even allowed yourself to consider him, even as you got to know him. Yet, even while not letting yourself consider him, knowing who he was, you admit you like his personality, could be friends with him. However, when you did not know who he was, you were attracted. Now that you know the person you were attracted to is also the person you came to know and appreciate, you want him. Fickle."

"What?" Harry was very offended.

"Now, you need to think about what you want, really want, and not just at this moment. That boy opened his heart and he fell for you. For him, this is a life or death choice, and he chose you. You hurt him, rejected him, and it could end up killing him. So before you go chasing after him again, think hard. If you break his heart a second time, I don't think I'll need to use the word 'might' anymore, he'll just die."

She paused looking straight at Harry. Harry just looked back; then recognized she was waiting for him to say something.

"I may be 'fickle' as you say, but I want him. I don't know if it'll be forever but I want to try. I want to be honest, and to give whatever we might have a chance, a real chance this time." His tone was challenging, and his eyes dared her to disagree.

His disapproving expression finally cleared. "He likes chinchillas, kittens are too plebian for him, if you want to give him something soft and cuddly as an apology gift." Harry stood, ready to go, and a little grateful for the hint, if still a tad annoyed for the judgment. "Oh, and Harry? I would hurry. He's spoken to me about this already."

Harry sat back down. "He did? What did he say?"

"He was crying" Harry's heart stung for a moment, he knew just how much it took to make the proud blond cry, especially in front of others. The last time he'd seen him in tears, in fact, had been during the war, and at Hogwarts. It had taken another student nearly dying by Draco's slip up to bring on that set of tears. "That Veela woman, Nagine, Nadine, something," she waved her hand dismissively, but Harry's guard was up. What had that manipulative slag done now? "Whatever her name is, she offered to Obliviate you from his mind. The only thing that has kept him from it so far is you are in so much of his past. He's afraid it would completely change his personality. He is thinking about it, Harry. So, you'll have to hurry."

Harry was suddenly very afraid. He stood, and in a wink was outside, back on his broom, not even bothering to say goodbye or thank you. Not that Andromeda minded.


	17. what you sow

Disclaimer: My cat wanted you to know, I own nothing, not even her, for I am her slave. Being a good slave, I'm passing that message on.

**Draco's PoV, wand core procurement day:**

With a unicorn core in his wand, Draco knew the herd would be attracted to him, so gathering unicorn tail hairs would be easy. Since the goblins had offered nuggets of goblin-forged steel as cores, if Ollivanders' would widen his core selection, he also knew he could gather a wider variety of materials, making getting the total amount needed easier. It was the Acromantula venom and leg hairs that were currently giving him pause.

Hagrid was going to help with those. Neville Longbottom, recently named new Professor of Herbology at Hogwarts, had also agreed to help. He would be collecting wild, not greenhouse raised, Mandrake roots, and Dittany. There was some debate about attempting to collect a vine or two of Devil's Snare as well. Draco just hoped no one was suicidal enough to want to attempt to get a branch off of the Whomping Willow for lengths of wood for wands.

Fawkes had been asked if he would donate some of his feathers, and seemed to be content… and Draco was also donating some of his own hair as well. If he could switch forms at will already, he would also donate some of his feathers, but since he couldn't, his hair would have to do. It was odd thinking of one's own body as a source of magical ingredients.

He would be arriving at Hogwarts this morning to meet up with the staffers before entering in the forest. Today was a Saturday, so there were no classes, and it was not a Hogsmeade weekend, so no chaperones were needed. That meant they were totally free. Draco was both lucky and grateful they had agreed to give up their free time and help him. He supposed it was the charity element.

"'Ello, Draco!" Hagrid's booming voice carried across the fields. Draco winced. Maybe they would split up in the Forest. "Are ya still plannin' o' cuttin' yer hair, then Draco? I've got a right sharp pair o' scissors ye kin use."

Draco shook his head. He was fairly certain that the stories about Veelas and hair cutting were false; after all, his short hair certainly wasn't short because it only grew that length. However, the root was needed for magical use, and that meant pulling or brushing. "No, Hagrid. I'm not going to cut my hair. Just comb it out, and donate the hair that comes loose." He had a magical comb used by potioners, which always grabbed loose hair with root intact for ingredient gathering. He assumed it would be just as useful gathering ingredients for wand making as for potions.

"So," Neville rubbed his gloves hands together, "just how many plants should I pull?"

Draco thought for a minute. "Not too many, wand cores are small, even a Mandrake smaller than your forearm would make several dozen wands, as would one Dittany bush." While he had planned this expedition expecting it to be done by lunch, he now was hoping it would take longer. He couldn't afford to be distracted in the Forbidden Forest, so he wouldn't be able to think about his broken heart. But, that did not mean he would lie about what was needed; if they gathered too much it would just be wasted. Malfoys were never wasteful.

He would have to come up with other ways, not wasteful and hopefully not dangerous, to extend his trip. Maybe he could apply for a last-minute international port key and try to locate a sphinx… He'd always heard Egypt was wonderful this time of year!

Realizing Neville had been talking to him, he pulled himself out of his thoughts. A little light small talk and they were off, and being daylight, a much safer time than night if you absolutely have to go into the Forbidden Forest, the three did agree to split up. Each had a small bag, and once it was filled, they would leave, meeting up later at Hagrid's cottage. Luna was going to have something prepared waiting on them.

Draco was immensely grateful; he strongly suspected anything was better than Hagrid's cooking. There was much creaking and crackling of the trees, but very little wind to support it. Silver eyes blinking, Draco wondered if Bowtruckles crawling around in the branches might be responsible. With their vicious nature when defending their trees, Draco was suddenly very glad he was here for wand cores, and not for wand wood. He just hoped any nearby would not feel threatened, he rather liked being able to see.

He moved deeper, trying to locate one of the clearings where the herd might find grass to eat. Climbing over roots sometimes as big as he was, and picking his way through the shadowy undergrowth, he tried to ignore his growing sense of disquiet. A Clabbert's nose flashed as he passed, and it moved away, swinging in the branches. Soon, he reached a clearing.

Traditionally, unicorn's preferred the touch of a woman, Draco knew. But, they also liked innocence and beauty. That was why they were drawn to virgins. He was a virgin, very attractive, even if Potter was unable to see it, and had a unicorn hair core wand. As long as his reason was pure, and it was, and he had no thought of harm, the herd ought to allow him near. He walked to the center of the glade, then sat down, prepared to wait. They would come.

Come they did. Draco had expected only one or two to enter the glade while he was there, and at first that was all there was. Before he had finished combing the first mare, another, and another, and another still, this one with a foal, had come. Before he knew what had happened, he was surrounded, and even the lead stallion was there. Most were ignoring him, treating him as part of the herd, and happily eating grass. Draco, however, was justifiably nervous. Those horns and hooves were not just for show, and should they become frightened, or decide he was a threat in any way, Draco could easily be killed.

His bag was mostly filled, and he knew there were other things he could get besides unicorn hair. With the herd surrounding him, he had no idea how to leave so he could get those things. Draco, with resignation and anxiety warring for control, sat once more to wait. Just as they came when they were ready, so too would they leave when they were ready.

**Harry's PoV, same day, near noon:**

Luna was setting five places at the table in Hagrid's cottage when Harry knocked. She smiled, welcoming him in. "You know, Harry, the Heliopaths might not run across your heartstrings so much if you'd listen to the pull of the soul a bit more." Harry was not certain, but he thought he might have just been rebuked by Luna for messing up with Draco. So, he had to reluctantly agree with her; he should have listened more to what his heart had been telling him.

He asked about the place settings and Luna, serene as ever, said, "Well, you will be joining us, won't you Harry?" Green eyes blinked rapidly, then Harry stumbled out an affirmative. How had Luna known he was coming? Did Ron or Hermione tell her? Did this mean Draco knew as well? That could be bad; if he knew he might try to hide from Harry, or blast his ears off, or be stubborn and not listen. Then again, it could be good… he might know Harry wanted to apologize, and might be willing to…

"Harry? Is a Blibbering Humdinger distracting you? You shouldn't let them confuse your thoughts, you know." Luna was now putting food on the table, and had a chair pulled out for Harry. "Where's your furry companion hiding, Harry?"

Andromeda! "It is right here," Harry gestured towards the cage he had yet to set down with his free hand. "Oh," he said, looking at the empty looking cage. "The salesperson at Magical Menagerie said when frightened they become invisible like Demiguises do. It is a mixed breed creature, though, half Pygmy Puff and half Chinchilla. How did you know I had it?"

"I saw the cage, silly."

"Oh." Harry set the cage down, and took a seat. Maybe it wasn't Andromeda? Hagrid chose that moment to return, looking no worse for the wear, and carrying a huge sack filled with something black and wiry looking that Harry suspected burned and itched if touched. It somehow evoked spiders when looked at closely. Harry, knowing what the day had been for, decided it was better not to ask.

The three carried on a rather pleasant conversation for an hour or so, when Neville came in. His bag was tied tightly, but wiggled and squirmed, and soft, muffled, high pitched cries seemed to escape it every now and again. "Sorry," He said as a particularly loud cry escaped, and blushing, he cast Muffliato followed by Petrificus Totalus to silence and freeze whatever was in the bag. Harry wondered if it was something that needed to be 'fresh' because petrified didn't exactly meet that requirement.

"So, Harry, looks like you decided to use Luna's matchmaking services after all. She said you would."

"Her what?" Harry was stunned. He had no idea Luna had become a matchmaker. It was a good two hours, easily, with the others explaining that she used her skills as a visionary to match people together. Harry had suspected Luna had was a Seer on occasion, but never really took the idea seriously before. Now he learned not only was that the case, but she was also a matchmaker, and had set her goals on fixing his relationship.

Since he had no better offers, and he knew he was going to need all the help he could get with Draco after his foul up, he accepted. It was not an easy acceptance, though. Harry still rather hated visions, prophesy, and all that those things entailed. He had never fully forgiven all the mess his life had been because of a prophesy given when he was only a few months old.

Soon, they set down to eat, politely ignoring the one empty place, as it was now very well past lunch, and almost past time for tea. They couldn't very well hold off eating forever just because one person was taking a while. They decided they would go looking for him if he had not shown up before sundown. Everyone knew the forest was not a place to be alone after dark.

It was that late time of day, almost sunset but not quite, and raining, as it so often was, when the door opened to a twig covered, sopping wet and generally disheveled looking Draco Malfoy. His head was down, trying to keep as much water out of his eyes as possible, as he walked in, so he didn't see the occupants immediately. "H'llo." His voice was quieter than anyone had ever heard it, and almost soul-rendingly sweet. He had spent too much time with the unicorns and their influence upon him was evident. He had also gathered Fawkes' tail feathers, and combed his own hair, and somehow managed to gather Thestral tail hairs and Niffler fur with gold dust glittering on some of the strands. All in all, he had three over-stuffed bags of materials, and looked a little worse for the wear.

He stepped inside, still acting sweet and shy. Then he saw Harry. It was as if the unicorn influence left him in a puff of golden dust; it was almost that visible. His expression turned stormy, and he moved to grab the bags left by Hagrid and Neville, "Thank you gentlemen for your help, and I'll just be going now."

It was Luna that stopped him. "If you leave now, you'll attract a Umgubular Slashkilter, and once you get one of those they never leave. They're very unappealing, and lead to horrible characters, you know."

He sighed, aggrieved, and sat down. He refused to look at Harry. "Well, Harry, it is all up to you now," Luna said, smiling her placid smile and she walked out the door, pulling a hapless Neville with her.

"Best a luck te ya," Hagrid boomed, and he, too disappeared, leaving the two men alone together.

"Draco," Harry began anxiously, "I want to apologize. Will you at least listen to me?"


	18. problem shared

**Draco's PoV two days after the harvest:**

The chittering purple ball of fluff launched itself to the top of one of Draco's bookcases in annoyance. The change of flames from orange to green had not scared it into invisibility, just bothered it. He shook his head ruefully, as he waited for his mother to come through. Once she did, actually scaring the chinchilla into a shrill screech of warning, and then invisibility, and she had dusted herself off, and been seated, Draco called the animal. "Bribes? Come here, Bribes!"

At his mother's look, Draco said, "Well, I was told I could name it, and that's what it is, so why not?" a little petulantly. Narcissa wisely refrained from comment. Popping back into sight, the puff/chinchilla blend willingly crawled into his lap at his direction, accepting his pets and caresses with a soft, deep purr.

"So this is the mixed breed pet he gave you to try to win back your favor?"

"Yes, Mother." Narcissa looked over the chinchilla critically. Other than the bright purple it gained from the pygmy puff parent, and the ability to turn invisible, which she wasn't sure where that came from, it looked just like an ordinary chinchilla. Soft, fluffy, and sweet; she was sure that it would be a great pet for her boy. It helped that she knew he had wanted one ever since he first went to the Muggle world to learn about Muggles for business. He had wandered into a pet store, and seen one, asked about it, and when the employee let him pet one, he was hooked at the first purr.

Not many animals outside the feline family purr, and the ones that do, well, they are all sweet and special. Not to say that felines aren't special as well. But, that was neither here nor there, and not what she wanted to learn about today.

"You were willing to give up the title of Heir of Family Black over him, ready to cut your ties to me, as your mother unless I likewise severed my ties with my family, ending the line. Yet, you are continuing this farce? Why?"

"He refused to accept my resignation of the title, Mother. He is giving me no choice but to continue. He offered to end it, to write a letter in the Prophet explaining why it was his fault and he could not force me, but that would only shame the family further. He, I don't know if I can believe him, Mother." Draco looked bewildered, and lost.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa stood, and walked over to her son, hugging him tightly. She wasn't often a demonstrative woman, her love simply was, and often had to be taken on faith. But, there were times, and this was one, when a hug was the only thing that would do.

Draco held back a sniffle. He needed the hug, and appreciated it, but he would not cry, even if he was sad, and being comforted by his mother's arms. "He told me he thought he might be able to love me, and he wanted to try, honestly this time. He called me his obsession. What does that even mean, Mother? I mean, he stalked me when we were kids, but that was… that was because of the war. How am I an obsession?"

Narcissa just rubbed her son's back comfortingly, and plotted ways to kill Harry Potter. Voldemort would have been proud. "Shh, Dragon. It is ok. You don't have to let him worry you. There are other men, and you will be happy again. It will be alright."

"That's just it, Mother. I don't want another man, I want Harry. Nadine offered to wipe him from my mind because if he doesn't accept me I'll die if I remembered his rejection. She said I've already chosen, and I chose him."

Plans to kill Harry Potter were immediately put on hold. Can't hurt him without hurting her baby, then he'll be allowed to live. Plans to maim him and cause extreme pain so he will learn his lesson replaced them. "I almost said yes, Mother. I almost made myself forget him. Then he did this… can I believe him after what he did? Can I trust him not to hurt me again?"

Narcissa was in a tough spot now. She knew her son doubted himself, and whatever she said would be believed and followed. Did she condemn the man who'd already hurt her son once, but had the power to bring him the greatest happiness if he learned, or did she forgive? Her next words would have great impact on their lives… "Draco, my darling Dragon…"

**Harry's PoV:**

"Whew!" Harry wiped some sweat from his brow. Ron had been given a couple days paid leave, and the two had been playing a little Quiddich in the Granger-Weasley back yard. Though Ron had never been a Seeker, and Harry never a Chaser, they played practice round for each other sometimes, as they still played against Ron's brothers at the Burrow every so often.

"You know, Mum and Bill will be sore once they realize." Not all the wounds from the War had been physical, and just like the physical wounds, some of the emotional ones had left scars. The Weasley clan had been angry enough when Harry spoke for Draco at his trial. Dating Draco, seriously dating him, would be seen by some as a betrayal. Actually, Harry was rather surprised Ron wasn't taking this view.

"Yeah, I know." And, Harry did know. He also knew, with time, just like they had eventually accepted his testimony was the right thing, they would also come to accept this. In the meantime, at least he had the support of his two best friends. "So, I did what Hermione suggested, and talked to his family. Then, I got him a magical chinchilla. I also told him I wasn't accepting his stepping down from the Heir status, and I'd do anything to win him back. Anything."

"So, did it work? He forgive you yet? … No details!" Ron looked a little wild, and more than a little wary, as he added his last comment. He wasn't homophobic; he didn't want the details of his friend's sex life regardless of partner or partner's gender. He was, simply, a prude; not that there is anything wrong with that.

"I don't think so. He said that I wasn't giving him a choice again, and that I hurt him badly and he didn't know if he could trust me not to hurt him again. Andromeda told me Nadine offered to Obliviate him to forget me, because he had chosen me and I rejected him." Harry's tone took on a bit of wonder, as he continued, "Do you really think he chose me?"

Ron did not even need to think about it. "Well, even if you were trying to run him off half the time, you were still pretty thoughtful, mate. Umm.. maybe I should start calling you pal or something… but, yeah, you're a really great guy. If he only saw half of what I know, and he saw what Ginny saw, no doubt he chose you!" Ron totally missed the flinch at Ginny's name. She was still a wound on Harry's heart.

Too drunk to get off the couch, she missed their wedding, standing Harry up at the altar. When he came home, and found her there, she chose the bottle over getting help and staying with Harry, breaking everything off with him then and there. The row had been terrible, and she had even thrown her ring – which had been Harry's mother's, and one of very few family possessions he owned, into the street. He never did relocate it, and was still a bit angry about that.

Worse, shortly after, drunk at one of her games, she fell off her broom and was hospitalized at St. Mungo's, where due to her inebriated state, she had a reaction to the potion therapy for her injuries. She was still in a coma and never expected to wake. Harry felt cheated out of the chance to ever forgive her. He also felt like she had never really loved him if she loved alcohol so much more.

He certainly did not want his relationship with Draco to be anything like his relationship with Ginny. He had enough of self-doubt, guilt, shame and angry. Fighting, not for any real reason beyond anger, and never solving anything, not even the anger, was something he'd experienced enough of in school, and he'd had more of it than he could handle, too, with Ginny. He was ready for the easy companionship, even with the occasional snarky barbs and verbal battles, he'd glimpsed with Draco.

He was ready for a real relationship with equal partnership and love. Ron never realized any of this. He just blithely kept on, with encouragements that hurt more than helped.

"So, what do you think I should do next? I need to start winning his trust back, obviously, but I don't know how to prove I won't hurt him again." Harry interrupted. Ron screwed up his face, thinking.

"Well, you gave him an apology present so there's no need to do that. Maybe tell him one of your deepest secrets?"

"I don't really have any deep dark secrets, Ron. Most of the things I would least like to share have already been published and everyone already knows. All the secrets I have now are other's."

"Right, can't prove trustworthiness telling other's secrets." Ron thought a bit more. "Pinky swear? Wizard's Oath, wait no – if something happens and he's hurt, even on accident, you die. No Wizard's Oaths!" Ron continued on in that vein for a while, each suggestion getting progressively more wacky and silly, as they fell into an easy banter. Finally, after an hour or two, Ron suggested "You know, I hear that Loony Luna's a matchmaker and she's gets pretty good results. Why don't you hire her?"

Remembering Neville saying something about that when he last saw them, and how Luna had known to expect him, and seemed to want the two together, Harry thought hard about it. He decided to give her a fire call, and see if her services were available. Anything was worth a shot, if it could help. He had meant it when he said he would do anything for Draco. Harry did not realize it, but he was well on the way to falling very, very deeply in love with Draco; he was more than halfway there already.


	19. stalking

Disclaimer: I own nada.

**Stalking**

**Harry's PoV 5 weeks after begging for a second chance:**

The last five weeks had been something of a revelation for Harry. He'd taken Luna's first suggestion – stalking Draco, as something he could easily do, and learned more about the blond than he'd ever known he could learn. The businesses! Just learning the man owned no less than 5 separate and mostly unrelated businesses was impressive on its own. Then seeing how much hands-on work Draco did at each of his jobs was also impressive.

Then there was charity work. Draco seemed to favor creating his own and nurturing it until it could stand without him, then starting a new one, and only checking in on the old ones once in a while. His charities seemed to be very worthwhile, his newest project being a magical community adoption center, modeled after Muggle orphanages, but with greater care and better education. He had also sponsored, before the healer school, a preschool for pre-Hogwarts education of Muggleborn and magical family children, with blended Muggle and magical educational elements.

He also spied on a Teddy outing without him or Andromeda. It was comical how awkward Draco was with children, Teddy and his friends, without anyone to ask for assistance. But, for every amusing moment, there was a heartwarming one, too, as it was just as clear how much Teddy was loved and how well Draco would do with a family of his own.

It was the dates, though, that had him going back to Luna. The dates before had been fantastic in their own way. Draco's cooking was better than Harry would have ever imagined, in fact, he had not believed Draco cooked for himself their meals the first several times he had eaten it. It had taken him seeing Draco cook to believe.

But now… now the dates were spectacular. More often than not, had Luna not still been acting as chaperone, as well as matchmaker, Harry would have made serious efforts at taking things further and seducing Draco. He felt the desire every time he saw the blond. Those silver eyes made something in him cry out in need.

They had gone to a Muggle fair and ridden on the rides. They had picnicked on a beach and Draco had licked icing and Harry had nearly died. They swam, after the appropriate wait period, and the brunet learned the blond moved like a dancer in the waves. He also learned the tight form, and firm muscles he had seen at the club were real, not glamour. That had all been one date.

Then there was the disaster, or near disaster, when Harry had tried to cook for Draco. All Harry knew was Muggle home-style cooking. Very basic, like toast and eggs in the morning, fish and chips for dinner… nothing Draco was used to, and Harry borrowed one of Draco's magical cookbooks, and attempted one of his masterpieces. Draco ended up cooking, and Harry had to admit, he loved seeing Draco in the kitchen, waving his wand, and everything swirling around him. It was the best meal of his life, and it wasn't because the food was any better than any other time Draco fixed something. It was the working together to make it.

Their most public date was also nearly a disaster, once the press got wind, but Luna saved them from that. A quick double glamour, and her as usual odd comments, and everyone assumed it was a false lead. Then, Harry and Draco were free to watch the rest of the Wizard's Wheezes fireworks display in peace. That was their longest date, and Harry found it nearly impossible to say goodnight and leave at the end.

Luna was really earning her Galleons. But this suggestion! He really wasn't so sure about this, this sounded like it would be highly embarrassing. Harry was supposed to follow Draco and either recite poetry or sing, publically, to declare his love for Draco. He knew this would be a key in proving his intentions were what he said they were, and not a lie or a trick this time, but… somehow; he felt that it was almost not worth the risk. Things had been going so well, he had to have made some progress without this humiliation.

He squared his shoulders. He was a Gryffindor, he had killed the Voldemort, he could sing a song! He Apparited near Draco's home; to begin his stalking for the day. He really hoped today wasn't one of the days Draco had a date with someone else. Those days hurt.

He thought about the revelations from their last conversation. He'd known, of course, Draco knew how to hold a grudge. But, with all the other changes, and the new depths he was seeing in him, he'd thought maybe, just maybe, his famous luck would hold and that would be different too. No such luck. Years down the line, and no matter how many requests, Draco was still refusing to see the only portrait of his godfather, refusing even after his death to forgive Snape.

Frankly, Harry hadn't even thought, before that conversation, there was reason for discord between the two. Yet there was; and the reason was tied to both wars, and tied to him. Of course. Snape had been named godfather before Draco was born, but had never, outside the Astronomy tower, attempted to save Draco. He had never even hinted such a thing was possible. And the night on the tower had not saved Draco; not really, it had only led to greater horrors. Yet from the very day Harry was born, he risked his life for him, and in the end died for him. It had taken two separate Unbreakable Vows to get Snape to interfere in Draco's life, and in the end, even that unwilling 'help' that led to so much greater pain and torture and a firm closing of the only door to the other side, had ultimately really been for Harry also.

Draco was understandably bitter. To him, he'd been being betrayed from birth. His recent health revelations had only added to his anger at his godfather. Apparently, his father was nearly as bad as Neville at potions, so for the potion elements of his binding, Snape had to have helped. Thus, Snape, to him, rated right there with Voldemort, Dumbledore, and his father. Perhaps, as for the most part, Draco had been able to put much of the war behind him, Snape truly rated worse.

So, Draco could hold grudges. Viscously, with great enthusiasm and determination. He also, due to Harry's betrayal, had a grudge already against the brunet. Harry frowned to himself, his nerves ratcheting up another notch. Really, this was a very bad idea.


	20. Problem Halved

Disclaimer: I own zilch. Not to be confused with 'Filch.'

A.N. : I chose NOT to include the song lyrics, as I felt it would break up the story unnecessarily. However, you can go to YouTube and listen to the song easily for free. It's by the Dave Matthews Band. And, just as I own nothing HP, I also own nothing with this song, no matter how I love it. ENJOY!

**Problem Halved**

**Draco's PoV, the day Harry decided to do something monumentally stupid:**

He grabbed the last loose sheets of parchment, and odd scroll, shoving them harshly into his attaché case; he was running late! Fortunately, his barristers and solicitors would be meeting him there, and the Ministry officers would no doubt be waiting. Even if he was late, they could begin; as long as the solicitors were there he was actually not required to be. His presence, was, simply put, superfluous. However, as he had done a fair amount of the research himself and as it was an immensely personal affair he was trying to negotiate, he would prefer to be there. He had a great deal tied into this, after all.

Cursing the time, he Apparited. He hoped, even as he appeared in the dirty, dingy alley near the public entrances to the Ministry building, today was not one of the days Harry was following him. Oh, yes, he knew about that. It was nowhere near as annoying as when they were in Hogwarts, and far easier to catch him at it than then too, but it amused him how easily the boy wonder fell back into bad habits. He knew it wasn't because, like then, Harry wanted to catch him at something. No, now it was… well, he wasn't sure why it was.

He crossed the street, the Muggle lit signs indicating it was safe, and strode quickly to the telephone booth. Muggles so rarely used them nowadays, preferring those tiny, flippy, beepy things instead… what were they called? Sells? Privately, Draco thought the Ministry needed to update the entrance to something less conspicuous, with that in mind. He opened the door, looking around.

No Harry. Good. Not that he didn't like the attention, but he was distracting, with his good looks, and soulful apologies, and wounded expressions. This was important, and Draco just couldn't afford to mess it up. So, it was good Harry wasn't following today.

Convinced he was alone, and no Muggles seemed to be paying attention to him, he dialed in. The box's slide down to the atrium was disorienting, as always. He rushed through the paperwork, the wand weighing, and pinning his badge… he only had a short time now. He matched, as fast as he could while still being dignified, running would be unseemly, to the lifts, and pressed "2". He was after one of the 'other offices' in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Sturgis Podmore was assigned as the head of this inquiry, though there would be at least three other Ministry employees assisting him, as well as a recorder within the room.

Draco was about to argue his case for the return of Malfoy Manor, the associated attached lands and properties, as well as a few other confiscated properties. His main argument was that as those were attached to his title, given by the Throne, only the Muggle Queen could revoke them. As the title had not been revoked, then neither could the inherited properties tied to the titles. That wasn't to say all the Malfoy properties that were taken could not be taken in reparations; indeed not. No, most had been bought or earned one way or another by various ancestors. However, the ones in Wiltshire, and a few other locations, one small fort in Scotland for example, well… those were deeply tied to the Ancient House of Malfoy. His House was a Ducal one, and by law, only the Crown could revoke a Duchy. Actually, due to the Magna Carta, even the Crown was limited upon how a Duchy could be stripped. Guaranteed rights were a grand thing.

Technically, Voldemort's war could be seen as a rebellion, so his being a Death Eater might actually qualify. He was banking on no one proposing that argument, though.

He also was banking on his barristers having very good, solid, arguments to the contrary – with any precedents they could use to back them up that they could find.

He glances at the crumpled official letter, giving him the time and location for this inquiry, just to verify once again the room number. Finally spotting the correct door, he enters. With the long table dominating the room, and the chair around it, he is mildly reminded of the formal dining room in Malfoy Manor, and nauseated. If he had more experiences in the Muggle business world than he did during those brief explorations of his, he might have associated the room more with a Muggle business boardroom, which is what it was most likely modeled after.

Arguments, counter arguments, debates, claims, precedent recitation and counter recitation, and negotiations had been on-going for about an hour when all hell broke loose. And, by all hell, Draco meant the appearance of Harry.

**Harry's PoV, the day Harry decided to do something monumentally stupid:**

He had approached Draco's flat, preparing for another day of stalking, when he heard the crack of an Apparition. Now, his career as an Auror may have been primarily a desk jockeying one, but he still went through the training. It had been useful these last five weeks. He knew how to follow an Apparition, and trace the location of the witch or wizard doing the transporting. He did so without a thought, following Draco into a disgusting, refuge filled alley. He hid under his invisibility cloak, and silently prayed he didn't see any rats. After Pettigrew, he had an undeniable hatred born of bad associations for the creatures.

Why was Draco in Muggle London?

He watched Draco crossing the street, actually checking the signs on the street posts for the stop/walk signs like he was familiar with them. The brunet saw him entering a phone booth, you don't see many of those anymore, and who was he calling anyways? It was then Harry remembered the importance of telephone booths in London, and recognized exactly where he was. Which was good, because Draco was now gone.

He knew other entrances, and not wanting to lose Draco once he was through the check in at the atrium, he picked one. Namely, he ducked into a nearby men's restroom, and flushed himself in, grinning to himself as he remembered doing this with Ron and Hermione. Though, that visit had gone badly, the part in the bathroom, last minute jokes and nervousness before the difficulties, well, that memory was worth smiling over.

Under his cloak, Harry didn't waste time checking himself in. Which was all to the good, as he caught up with Draco heading to the lifts. Why was he rushing? Harry hoped it wasn't anything bad; the last thing Draco needed was more hassles from the Ministry. He slid in behind the blond, pulling his cloak close where the edges dragged, so it didn't snag in the rapidly closing doors. It would be his luck to have the lift doors pull his cloak off before he was ready to reveal himself.

He thought again of the song he had chosen, it was an American Muggle song, but popular on both sides of the Pond. He had modified the lyrics a bit, dropping the one 'girl' and replacing 'skirt' with 'shirt' to fit his conditions a bit better; singing for a man and not a woman after all. It was called 'Crash into Me,' and was very suggestive, but there was one line that was so perfect, "Into your heart I'll beat again," which since he was hoping for exactly that – to be back in Draco's heart, that he could hardly find a better choice. Besides, it he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't want the Veela. No, lust was definitely not lacking.

He even did not mind that in singing this song, he was implying a desire to 'bottom;' because he wanted Draco any way he could have him. Although, to be perfectly honest, he also wanted him every way he could have him, which meant both bottom and top…

Hell, he just wanted Draco.

The blond was racing up and down corridors, checking signs at every hallway and intersection, and nearly every door. Did he not know where he was going? He looked at a crumpled piece of parchment, and straightened himself before entering a room. Harry glimpsed a table, and several men in 'proper' attire; suits and formal (but not dress) robes.

He waited, pacing the halls. Was this public enough? There were fewer people than, say just walking down Diagon Alley, so there was less embarrassment to be had. But, would it count? He waited. Whatever was going on was taking long enough he'd surely be able to catch Draco in one place long enough for a song. He paced some more. Was he really going to do this? Humiliate himself, and publically declare his love, which he was not completely certain he felt yet, for a former enemy?

Oh, he was not lying to himself, he knew he lusted after Draco, liked him, cared for him greatly and wanted him in his life, and not just the lusting after kind of desire either, but the cuddling on the couch reading, waking up together after a long night of dealing with a rowdy Teddy… the romance and the arguments; the *life* kind of wanting. But it was not quite love yet. He has on the cliff's edge, teetering, and a feather could knock him over, but he had not fallen yet.

Was he ready to do this? If he did, there would be no going back, and he would be stepping off that cliff… was he ready? He took a deep breath in, removed his cloak, folding it, shrinking it, and pocketed it. Steadying himself, he opened the door and stepped inside.

**Draco's PoV:**

It could not have possibly gone any worse. Harry interrupted, causing chaos as he disrupted the proceedings, to sing to him, like he was a teenaged girl or something! Everyone starting yelling, arms were flailing in rude gestures, papers and scrolls flying about as they were knocked over, drinks spilling as cups were broken and overturned.

He had been set back weeks. He was not sure he'd be able to salvage the affair, either, as Mr. Podmore was insisting, loudly and repetitively, that Draco and Harry had set this stunt up to make a mockery of important legal proceedings.

And, it didn't help that the sound was atrocious. The general disorder of the other men in the room was actually an improvement. Harry was unaccompanied by any sort of instruments, which from the pauses, that cruelly implied hope to an end to the affair, were supposed to accompany him. Draco couldn't be sure as he'd never heard the song before, but he suspected the croaking wonder to have a distinct lack of any sense of tempo – the song couldn't possibly have no beat at all, could it?

Wonderful. He was now, loudly, being accused of moral indecency. Trust the Savior to sing about sex in front of Ministry officials during an official inquiry that was being recorded for the record. He was going down in history for dating a pervert. His reputation, bad enough with his history, really did not need this new blow. He hissed to the officials and his team his apologies, and promises he had no idea this was going to happen. "You can carry on without me correct?" He asked one of his barristers, and receiving a furious nod to the affirmative, he said, "Good, and see if you can't swing a new meeting or a rescheduling to salvage this. Find some way to help me clean this mess up!"

When Harry was done, looking quite proud of himself, and asking "Well?" in an expectant tone, it was all he could do to walk out, back straight and head held high. Malfoy training might be drastic, but when worst came to worst, and his tattered pride was all that was left to him, that training stood him in very good stead.

Once he and Harry were alone in the hallway, however, he let loose.

**Harry PoV much later in the evening:**

Nursing wounds metaphorically, since Draco had only unleashed hell verbally, not physically or magically, following his performance, Harry got ready for bed. Well, everyone is bound to make a mistake sometime, and this suggestion of Luna's was a bad one. He was in his pajamas, had brushed his teeth that one last time, and was just tugging back his covers when an owl tapped upon his window. Grumbling, as he was ready to sleep off his sulk, he made his way over.

As he opened the window, it occurred to him that this owl was familiar. This was Draco's owl, and after so many letters and gifts, he ought recognize it! He suddenly felt very apprehensive about letting the bird and its missive in. It hooted at him, tossed the package, and flew right back out, awaiting neither treats nor replies.

There was a small origami bird tied to a white box, about six inches square. The twine used at a tie was starting to unravel on the ends. He debated, only a second or ten, but pulled the bow, and freed the swan. Surprisingly, or perhaps not as the note had already been delivered, this one was not enchanted to fly. He opened the tiny square of parchment, and saw just two words. "You're forgiven."

A delighted smile lit his face. Eagerly now, he opened the box. Within, carefully nested in parchment shreds to protect the glass in transport (though undoubtedly also protected by spells) were two clear glass vials stoppered with cork. He lifted one, seeing a twirly glowing strand, looped within and swirling, a bright, electric baby blue and the center lightening to white as the glow expanded away from the core. Memories. Draco had sent him Pensieve memories, copies rather than originals, no doubt. Draco was unlikely to want to forget anything he would want Harry to know or remember, but what were they of? They were unlabeled, beyond a basic "One" and "Two" burnished into the glass. He would have to see them to know.

Well, he was awake now… and he does own his own Pensieve now… so, here goes…


	21. moonlight

Disclaimer: Don't have a kneazel, because all I own is my cat.

**Moonlight**

**Harry's PoV:**

There were a few downsides to using a Pensieve. The magic was a bit odd, so even though you were seeing some one's memories, as you were not them, you were on the outside and could see them, and some things even they did not see. The memories were not real, so everything had a semi-transparent look, and should you try to touch a person or most objects, like furniture for example, you would simply go right through. Ghostly. There were limits to the passages, though… walls of the rooms the memories were in were set. Lastly, though, in a Pensieve, since you were outside the person, unless they were saying what they were feeling and thinking aloud, you could not know it. A person's motivations for whatever actions seen remained obscured.

Tonight, Harry discovered there were benefits to using a Pensieve that he had never before imagined. Like, three dimensional porn. He could see everything, from every angle. Hear everything. Smell the pheromones, and the sweat. It was almost like really being there.

Sadly, this brought to mind all new disadvantages. The memory could not stop, or pause, so if he wanted to see from a different angle, he either had to watch in full and then restart, or jump out and back in, waiting to get to the right place. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Harry did not mind that too much. After all, watching this over and over again couldn't really be a downside.

Draco had sent the memories of the night at the club. Him stripping. For Harry. God… Harry had just about wanked himself raw, and this was only his fifth viewing. The elusive music, with a pumping beat and the vocals whose lyrics were impossible to understand as they blended in with the other sounds, had begun to drift in again.

Draco was waiting, and Harry's memory self would be walking through that door, into the private room of the club any second now. The door opened, and Harry watched the smile, quickly hidden behind a smug smirk on memory Draco's face. "So, Harry, you've read my letter, and know who I am, and you're still interested?" Still seated on the backless faux-dragonskin demi couch, he crossed his legs, and artfully draped an arm across his lap.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Memory Harry was drunk, but not yet swaying, as he leaned on the doorway, a half-empty old-fashioned highball glass of smoking firewhiskey in his hand. Memory Draco stretched, arching his back. He was wearing a hot little number – Harry didn't know what to call it, but it was silver, and clingy, and untucked. The collar had no tie, and was unbuttoned, as was the next two down, and surprisingly the bottom button, where the shirt hung loose, making two pointing triangles of fabric, with a pale splash of flesh just barely shown between when Draco moved like that. The blond hair of his happy trail teased, and taunted about what other secrets might still be hidden below.

"Harry," he murmured, "oh, Harry," he all but moaned, leaning forward and up, rolling his spine. "If we're going to do this, we've got to establish some… _rules._" His voice was a seductive purr. The hand that had been on the couch reached up, and began working slowly at the button third from the collar. "Firstly, Harry, sexy, hot Harry," he was moaning his words again, "I can touch you but you ab" the button was free of its hole "so" his hand was sliding down to the next button slowly "lutely" he had started to unbutton this one as well, "cannot touch me." It was free, and now most of his chest was visible.

Memory Harry was starting to breathe harder, and so was the real Harry. He already had his hard cock out, and was starting to stroke it slowly.

"Please Harry, say it for me?" The wide open collar was starting to slide off his left shoulder, exposing even more creamy flesh.

"Fine." Memory Harry stepped the rest of the way into the dark room, letting the door close behind him. There was a faint click, and the music which had been filtering in from the club quieted, fading further into the background. Harry could now hear memory Draco's breathe, as it hitched, in an involuntary almost sigh that caught in his throat.

Against his pale, nearly transparent skin, the color of his dusky nipples seemed darker, more obvious. Harry watched them as they moved up and down with Draco's breathing.

"Gooood, Harry, my oh-so-sexy Harry," Draco purred again, lips curling in a satisfied smile, reminiscent of the one he'd had the day he was announced Seeker, until Hermione had accused him of buying his position. He raised the hand from his lap, and now both hands were working the buttons on his shirt, but he was still moving achingly, torturously slow. "Second, this is for your pleasure," and he licked his lips, eyeing memory Harry with a lustful gaze, "and only your pleasure, no matter how much I want you."

By now, memory Harry was visibly hard. He swallowed a gulp of firewhiskey. "My pleasure. Right."

"Lastly, as long as those two rules are obeyed, your wish is my command. Shall we begin, Harry?" The last of the buttons were undone now, and memory Draco stood, allowing gravity to take the shirt, letting it simply slide off his shoulder and fall to the floor, as he strolled, hips rolling like no man should ever know how to do, to Harry.

His back was pockmarked in places, with pinprick like scars. Harry knew, without asking, they were from the glass of the chandelier. A trio of thin, silver lines zigzagged across his abdomen, the longest line going from just under his left nipple down to his right hipbone. Harry knew, too, without asking where exactly those scars came from.

The flickering, faint light of the dark room alternately illuminated and hid these imperfections, painting his pale skin in flickering colors. Memory Harry reached a hand out, and traced a light blue vein, barely visible through light skin, across his collarbone, curving, and branching, leading down towards the scarred nipple. "Ut-uh-uh," memory Draco teased, taking a step back. "Remember, no touching."

But, before memory Harry could respond, smiling, memory Draco grabbed the outstretched hand and led memory Harry to the abandoned couch. "Now, Harry, what would you like for me to do with you?"

Harry groaned, tightening his grip and pulling harder. Sweet Jesus, what it must have been like, to have his hands all over him!

And memory Draco did have his hands all over memory Harry, running them up and down his chest, stroking his sides, massaging his back… he leaned close, like he was going to kiss Harry, and whispered, lips a hairsbreadth from touching, "It's time." Suddenly, he was moving quicker, and both hands were on memory Harry's hips, grabbing him, pulling him close, and then pushing him, forcing him down roughly onto the couch. In a blink, he was straddling memory Harry, arching and rolling his back, twisting, thrusting, and grinding his hips, hands wandering, stroking, teasing and grabbing everywhere.

Now he was rubbing and teasing his own nipples, writhing on memory Harry's body at the contact with his right hand, while reaching between their bodies to stroke the jean clad erection of his partner. Both men were panting and moaning now. Memory Harry's glass, now with less than a shot of firewhiskey in it, was wavering precariously. The blond saw, smirking, and stole it. He ripped open Harry's shirt, somehow managing to not rip the buttons, and poured the drink down his chest.

Memory Harry cursed at the hot contact. Harry cursed at how hot the sight was. The blond was licking the hot liquid off memory Harry's body, rivulet by rivulet, drop by drop, placing open mouth kisses, and sucking softly, leaving faint pink marks, no bruises, that would be long gone by morning.

Draco stretched up, moving closer, nearly knocking memory Harry over, crawling up his body, so his knees where on the couch, legs still spread around Harry, hips and thighs raised with his crotch right in Harry's face. He undid his zipper, and pushed the fabric down, undulating his hips to aid the effort. His left arm wrapped around Harry's neck, holding him in place, while his right hand held the bunched fabric on the side still. His leg, pulled up and through the fabric, and wrapped around Harry's waist. Memory Harry moaned, fingers digging into the faux dragonskin, fighting not to touch.

He tossed the fabric aside, now only clothed on the bottom left, and reached up caressing memory Harry's face, before winding his fingers into thick brunet hair. Memory Harry's open shirt caught and bunched as his left arm slid down his body, to mimic his earlier actions, and finish stripping his trousers. Now wearing only tight, black pants, and both legs firmly wrapped around memory Harry, he continued writhing and thrusting. Suddenly smiling devilishly, he grabbed both of the brunet's arms, wrapping them about him, hands tight on his jutting hips bones. "Keep them still," he whispered, "it's okay if I start it."

Then, he did the move that brought both Harrys to orgasm. He arched and rolled his back so far he almost did a back-bend off Harry's lap. Only his legs around Harry's waist, and Harry's hands, tight on his hips, held their erections together. Only the fabric, little that there was, between them kept Draco from wearing Harry's cum.

The memory faded again, and Harry was once again, in his room, staring at his Pensieve, all alone.

It was time to look at the second memory now, he supposed. He didn't really want to, he wanted to go back into the first memory first memory again. But, he was already sore, chaffing, from too much all too close together. He couldn't handle any more tonight. Carefully lighting his wand, he summoned the memory back out of the bowl placed it once more in the glass jar, stoppering it to preserve it again. Opening the second jar, and collecting that memory, he sighed. He didn't know what memory this one was, but really, did it matter? Not after the first one…

Luna had the best ideas! If this was what he got for singing in public, he didn't care what ideas she suggested, she could suggest dancing naked on his head, he'd do it.

He took a deep breath, and dove in, not knowing what to expect.

He recognized Draco's flat immediately, even if he'd never been in this room before. He'd seen glimpses of it through the open door way often enough to know, without looking back the other way through the same doorway, this was Draco's bedroom. He was seated casually on his bed, wearing nothing but a dressing robe in a deep sapphire blue. The color made his eyes especially vibrant.

Just as his kitchen and dining room had not been Slytherin green, neither was his bedroom. The earthy tones, rich rusts, browns and beiges, like the dining room, continued. But, there were splashes of blues here, instead of the reds and oranges there. His bed, turned down already, had rich silk sheets of the darkest midnight blue. The coverlet, where visible, was many shades of different browns and blues, some sort of pattern, Harry couldn't figure out turned as it was.

He took in everything he could, while watching Draco, confused, and a little aroused. Draco seemed to be looking at the door, as if he was waiting for someone. Harry glanced back at it, too, and then looked again at Draco. "I want you," Draco whispered. _WHAT?_ Harry thought, enraged, _is this some sort of joke? Is he having me on?_ Then, the next thought, _is he cheating on me?_

Harry's heart almost broke. Almost. What stopped it was a very softly moaned, and very nearly missed, "Harry."

"Harry," the blond called again, a little louder, "I loved your song. I, too wish, for you to come inside me."

Harry thanked God profusely for His creation, and thanked Magic for Pensieve memories. He'd wait until he saw Draco and thank him in person.

Draco stood, and with a flirtatious smirk, began to stroll towards the attached master bath. "I heard from a little birdie that you were too inebriated to remember your visit to Constellations. So, I thought I'd send you a little reminder." He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder. "Just so you'd know exactly how 'well' I really do 'wear nothing.'" Harry wasn't sure exactly what Draco did, but now that lovely blue dressing robe was a lovely pool of fabric at Draco's feet.

Draco's bare arse was … Harry was beginning to think that 'male recovery time' was a myth, because impossibly, he was hard. Again. Draco stepped out of and over the fabric pooling at his feet, seductively sauntering deeper into the bathroom. Harry followed, swallowing convulsively. He didn't know where this was leading, but he liked what he had seen so far.

There was a massive bath, smaller than the old Hogwarts' Prefects bath, and far less elaborate, as it had no sculpture for a tap, but still impressive. It was filled, nearly overflowing, with hot bubbly water, and Draco was slowly sinking into the depths, his exquisite body disappearing under the foam.

He leaned his head back, resting on the edge, and groaned deeply in pleasure. His eyes slid shut, as he relaxed giving in completely into his obvious enjoyment. "Harry," his voice rough with desire, "I'm ready and waiting."

The memory faded, and once again Harry pulled his soaking face out of the basin. Without stopping, even long enough to dry his face, he Apparited.


	22. morning

Disclaimer: Words upon paper are whispers of dreams. Sadly, dreams are fleeting and free, and none, yes none, belong to me.

**Morning**

When Harry arrived, it had been several hours since Draco had sent his owl present. He had bathed thoroughly, and relaxed totally, expecting his soon-to-be lover to show. Then, he had given up, got out, dried himself off, and went to bed. As such, Harry discovered and empty bath, with a trail of damp fluffy towels on the floor, leading back into the bedroom.

He smiled, charmed at the sight of his, yes his, blond softly snoring beneath the covers. It was too adorable, too picturesque to disturb him. So, Harry did the only reasonable thing in light of the circumstances; he stripped down naked, and carefully lifted the covers just enough, and slid in beside the sleeping Veela.

He woke when the rays of light first began flitting through a nearby window, landing on his face. His room at his home had shades drawn before he slept, preventing his awakening when he did not desire it. He blinked, clearing his eyes and his mind, and recalled where he was, and why. A brilliant, handsome smile crossed his face.

Rolling over onto his side, he stared at his would-be lover, still dreaming. Mischievously, he leaned over him, and began to kiss his 'sleeping beauty' awake. Draco began kissing back before fully awake, moaning softly into his mouth. When his eyes opened at last, and his kisses turned more passionate, and more demanding, Harry climbed fully on top of Draco.

Draco had also slept in the nude.

This, along with his kisses, and the memories of last night's 'memories' and invitation, far more than the simple fact that it was morning, had Harry aroused and erect. Draco, though awake, was not yet fully aware, and in his state of dreamy desire kissed, touched, and rubbed the brunet shamelessly. The two quickly began grinding against each other, passionate kisses and touches not nearly enough.

Then, Harry grabbed his erection and began pressing it against Draco's tight opening; fully intent upon guiding himself in and making mad, passionate love with his partner.

"Harry!" Draco was now *fully* awake, and shoving Harry off of him, glaring. "What the bloody HELL do you think you were doing?!" He sat up, the sheet, which had mostly clung to Harry as he was shoved to the side, leaving only a corner covering Draco, fell further, exposing even more of his body.

Harry huffed, annoyed. "I *was* snogging my lover, and hoping to have a morning shag!"

Draco reached up and pinched his nose, eyes closing as he sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I *felt* that. You *are* aware I'm a virgin, correct? So, why did you feel the need for neither lube nor preparation?"

Harry was confused. "You need lube? I thought that stuff was just for making blowjobs taste nicer…" His voice trailed off.

"Oh, dear Gods above! Harry, you do know that having sex with a man is nothing like sex with a woman, right? Please tell me I don't have to give you the gay sex talk, because I don't think our relationship can survive me being forced into another humiliating situation by you just yet!"

Harry started to turn red, crossing from mildly annoyed to downright offended. He had thought Draco had grown out of his condescending holier than thou humiliation phase. He wasn't pleased to find out otherwise. He glared, "No, you prat, you don't have to tell me anything. It's obvious I don't know or understand what the problem is, but if you would rather worry about being humiliated by telling me than trying to work things out, then I'd say we have bigger issues than the difference in sex techniques. If that is the case, maybe you don't need to worry about it at all, because I don't think I'll be having sex anytime soon with you, you berk!"

The blond's eyes opened wide, and he stuttered, "N-no, Harry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant, this is hard to talk about, and really embarrassing, and just on the heels of your 'performance' which was *really* embarrassing" Harry's glare darkened, and Draco rushed out, "but charming, of course!" The glare lessened, and letting out a very slight sigh of relief, Draco said, "I just meant that I don't know that I can handle it, that's all. We obviously need to do this, so I'll, I'll try my best. But, umm…" he just gave a useless hand gesture, as words, for once, failed the usually skilled orator. "If it was anyone but us, I'd just say for you to buy some books, preferably with charmed illustrations, but since it is us, especially since it is me… I can't say that."

"Why not? And they make books like that?" Harry's temper had not cooled once again, and he was genuinely curious.

"Yes, they make books like that. But, I'd still have to discuss some things that aren't in the books because I'm not exactly human any more so there will be some differences beyond the normal guy/girl versus guy/guy. Stuff that I was told by the healers at St. Mungo's and that Veela bint Nadine… but, really since I'm the only one like me, most of it is guess work… so… Gods, this is difficult." He looked away, sighed and turned back. "Like I said, I'll try."

Harry smiled, and reach out, grabbing one of Draco's hands, and squeezing. "Draco, I meant it when I said I want us to be together. That means we have to work together, and talk to each other. Even when it is hard, especially when it is hard. That means about sex too. So, tell me what I was doing wrong, otherwise I won't learn, and we won't ever get anywhere."

"Yeah, and you could hurt me," Draco muttered, interrupting him.

"What? I could have hurt you?" Harry was horrified.

"Um, yeah. That's why I stopped you when I did. Ah, Harry, I think I'm going to take a calming draught for this conversation, and you might one too." He paused, thinking about it. "You might want an anti-nausea potion as well."

Harry was justifiably worried by that, a worry which only grew as Draco did get up, and go fetch the aforementioned potions. "Drink half of the calming draught, then save the rest to sip on as we talk." He took the large pyramidal vial hesitantly, but obediently uncorked it and swallowed half the vial concoction. Draco then passed him a much smaller bulbous vial, "Just take a shot now, to help prevent queasiness, and take a sip again as needed." The brunet was now officially anxious, but followed the instructions.

Draco tipped his head back and chugged on his calming draught. Harry thought that probably would have made him a lot more concerned if the calming draught he'd taken wasn't starting to kick in.

He sat back down, and faced Harry. "Okay, firstly I'm going to explain everything the natural and the magical way. The reason being, if you mistake the spells, I could end up in St. Mungo's for a very long time, or if worse comes to worse, I could die. So, until we both are completely sure the spells can be cast safely, even when horny and distracted, they won't be used when we shag, if we shag."

Harry nodded, if it was that risky, that made sense. But how could sex spells kill someone? Curious, he asked.

"Cleaning spells, as part of the prep, are very similar to vanishing spells, and a mistake can change them into one. You could accidentally vanish some of my insides."

Harry took a sip of his anti-nausea potion.

"Which, coincidentally, where we need to start this talk. See, women have this thing called a vagina which is designed as an in-y… men only have their arsehole, which does have an original use outside of sex. If it isn't properly emptied and cleaned of everything that it is designed…" As he carried on, Harry started turning a little green, despite taking many sips from his vial. "…and that's how an enema works. Incidentally, if we have shower sex sometime, please, please do not ever use soap or shampoo in place of lube, because you're only creating an impromptu enema and I'd rather not shyte all over you during sex."

Harry fled to the bathroom to sick up. He and Draco would not be having sex for a long, long time. And, he needed a stronger anti-nausea potion. Sex and defecation should never, ever mix.

"Now, after thoroughly cleaned and emptied, then the arsehole and the colon need to be stretched, often referred to as finger fucking or as prepping. This preparation is necessary because the muscles of the anus are layered and very tight, and when forced to open wider than they usually allow, and to allow entrance into an exit, there can be ripping and tearing which can lead to bleeding, and if not quickly and properly treated, infection. It is also just more pleasant, as it lessons pain and can be used as a part of foreplay if appropriate attention is paid to the prostate. The prostate is located about two inches inside, up along the spine but slightly to the 'bottom' person's left side. It has a …" Draco continued, trying very hard not to just tell Harry to buy a book, and ask him questions via owl later. This was so very hard! Yet, he still maintained his dignity, and was teaching Harry how to be his lover, safely and with the maximum amount of pleasure for them both.

Harry sipped at his calming potion. At least the gross part was over, and now it was just sounding difficult, and painful, and dangerous. _Why, oh why would anyone ever want to do this if it was so risky and unpleasant?_

"The good thing about stimulating the prostate is that it creates a pleasure much, much greater than can be created without it. Meaning better, longer, and harder orgasms."

_Oh. That's why._ Harry blushed.

"Now, besides the obviousness of using fingers, preparation of the arse also requires lube. This is because men, unlike women, do not naturally produce it. Going 'dry' or without lube causes burning and chaffing of both men, and can cause tearing and bleeding of the 'bottom'. This is addition to the obvious increase of pain." Draco stole Harry's potion for a swig, then passed it back. Thankfully, he was almost done.

"The thing about being a virgin is, I am not used to being stretched and prepared. I have been fingering myself for the last week or so, in anticipation of eventually needing it, but even I don't think that's enough." As Draco continued on with the shameful details of the additional difficulties in losing one's virginity when one expects to bottom, Harry latched onto one wonderful detail – Draco would be much, much tighter than anyone he had ever previously been with. He could not wait to feel that!

"One benefit of magical preparation over natural, is the retaining of tightness, as the body goes back to its original state, as opposed to the natural of retaining some of the stretch and never fully going back to the original tightness. In fact, purely natural, over time with regular sex, stretching can become unnecessary beyond as a source for lube and foreplay. Granted, that does usually take years, and very regular sex during those years, but it does still happen. Magic, however, negates that effect, granting a virgin tightness every time."

Harry quietly thanked Magic once again for existing.

"Penetration can be either fast or slow, however there is always a sting associated with it. How bad depends upon the preparation, the skill at the 'top' at distracting the 'bottom' and how often and how recent previous sexual experiences have occurred. Pausing for a moment for the 'bottom' to adjust is polite, but not always required; after all some partners like it rough. Though I have not personally previously experienced penetration, I would strongly suggest the pause for me; I personally Do. Not. Like. Pain."

Harry took note of the serious tone and detailed enunciation. Right, no rough stuff with Draco. Pausing. Got it. He nodded sharply.

Draco smiled for a brief second, before continuing his Hermione-esh lecture (though Heaven forbid, of whichever one you prefer, anyone ever tell him he was behaving in anyway like the woman… he knew the Dark Arts, after all.)

When mentioning positions, Draco finally succumbed to his embarrassment and just gave an enchanted illustrated pamphlet to Harry. Harry took one look at it, saw the models moving and writhing on it, and blushed deeply. He leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbed his trousers discarded the night before, and shoved the pamphlet into a pocket hurriedly.

"Now, all that's left is… me." Draco looked down, and placing his hands in his lap, began to fiddle and fidget his fingers. "Um, basically, as you know due to this Veela thing, I'm a carrier, naturally, with no need for spells, potions, or the like. That means I can get pregnant, obviously" his tone took its characteristic snark at the last word. He paused for a second, took a harsh breath in and continued, "it also means that right after my fertile time, if I am not impregnated, like a woman, I will have a cycle. However, how often I am fertile depends upon my forms. They guessed this form, as it is the most human, would be the least fertile, most likely only once a year."

Draco glanced at Harry, to see how he was taking this. Harry, for his part, was just trying to imagine Draco pregnant, and for the very first time, even though he had known about the ability longer than he had known he wanted Draco, it hit home. He imagined Draco pregnant with *his* child and he WANTED that. Even after the bloody, shitty, and frankly horrifying discussion; he was now half-hard, just from imagining it.

Draco wasn't sure what that expression meant, but he was a little frightened. But, then again, he had lived with the Dark Lord in his house before; a little frightened was nothing. He smirked to himself. "Now, the half-breed form, which is the true Veela form, that is the most fertile. Or so everyone has guessed. That form, should I chose to take it and stay in it for a long time, is fertile monthly just like a woman. Lastly, is the bird form. Since it is a blended form rather than the pure avian that most Veela can manage, the guess is it will have a blended fertility – twice a year, like the dragons whom the wings reflect, and egg laying like both dragons and birds." He paused for one final time.

"Any questions?"


	23. noon

Disclaimer: I'd happily agree to be JK's slave for a year and a day if I could only say I owned something. Sadly, slavery's illegal and I own nada.

**Noon**

After their rather disastrous, and as result more educational and pleasurable, attempt at intimacy, by mutual decision, sexual magic had been added to the list of their mutual training repertoire. Draco had been forced to explain the differences in traditional pureblood magical training verses what was currently taught at Hogwarts, when an ethical debate had ensued.

You see, Harry, like many of their generation, that were only educated at Hogwarts, with no private magical training at all, was severely lacking in knowledge. For example, the source of their debate: the use of animals magically created for spell practice. With the use of real, live animals, such as rats used in first year transfigurations, in Hogwarts, you would not think this would be such an issue for Harry. However, Hermione, with years of her influences, and with recent events due to Veela interferences, Harry had become a bit more interested in the rights of other living things.

Draco, for the most part, had been interested in those rights in one way or another for his whole life; even when for rather obvious reasons he could not always show it the way he wished. That was neither here nor there, however, and thus pointless. What was to the point, however, was the fact magic could not create a soul. This meant that while animals summoned were actual live animals, animals created by charms were little more than magically animated puppets.

Making practicing spells with the potential to kill if gone wrong, but requiring a 'live' target safer to practice on. If the spell failed, or the targeting went sideways; the mess only needed to be vanished and nothing was truly harmed.

And, frankly, Draco would be buggered before allowing himself to be the target of an un-mastered spell.

Of course, there were other things that night led to in there interactions as well. They no longer limited themselves to kissing when they met. Chaperone or no, though they did keep to the letter, if not the intent, of the courting rules and thusly had not had sex yet. They also skirted the rules and did not always have the chaperon present for their mutual training sessions.

Then again, as Harry's Animagus tutor and Draco's Veela form tutors were usually present, it was not like they were alone together anyways. And, as Harry was hardly a virgin, even if he had never , before had a male partner; for goodness's sake he had lived with Ginny for two years! Thus, the idea of trying to protect the purity of the Potter Heir was, in all honesty, a tad ridiculous and a bit like the old saying of closing the barn door after the horse has already fled.

Today, Draco planned on trying out giving Harry a blow job. He had never done this before, nor had ever received one, so he was a little nervous. More than, actually as his only knowledge of blow jobs outside the over-heard Slytherin common room gossip was either from a book or from Pansy's talking about her various boyfriends and their escapades.

Now, it had been a while since he'd asked her about them, and at the time, Pansy had carefully weighed her options about how to, and what to, tell Draco. After all, their bond, though accidentally so, had set and she was his for the rest of their lives, irregardless of their mutual dislike of the situation. She could play it up, and make it sound too wonderful; knowing he would never get to give or receive one, with the fidelity spells locked into the bond and his fear of pain. That would make him jealous, which suited her ego, but with him in a position of power over her, and likely able to make her life inordinately unpleasant as well as potentially dangerously short, well, jealous sounded like a bad idea. She could go the opposite way, and play up the unpleasant aspects, uncomfortable feelings, and the occasional hurts could be exaggerated. However, even with her enjoyment of a little pain with her pleasure, he would no doubt wonder why anyone would ever do such a thing if there was no enjoyment for them to be found. Therefore, he would not believe her, causing him to lose some trust in her, which, again with their situation being what it was, seemed like a risky proposition.

Pansy chose to go with middle ground, and tell him as clinically as possibly the up sides to giving one (as a female she obviously could do little more than guess the upsides to receiving one) and the down sides. The hair pulling worried Draco, with his sensitive scalp. The choking he thought he could handle, he had a large mouth and a weaker gag reflex. But when Pansy mentioned that the taste often left something to be desired, and one had to learn to like it, that sunk in. His was a very refined palate, used to nothing but the finest. Learning to like something initially disgusting went against the grain. Worse, Pansy mentioned if the other party had less than truly exemplary sanitary habits, then that too became a part of the experience. Draco had been nauseated.

So, he was nervous. He honestly did not expect to like what he was about to do, but he wanted to do it for Harry. The Veela just crossed his fingers and hoped that Harry was a very clean individual, had bathed today, washed his hands often, and most importantly, had not needed to use the bathroom as of yet.

Draco need not have worried nearly so much – after all, while Harry was a hygienic person, they did not do any sexual exploring today. Harry had his own plans, for advancing their relationship. His plans included having a deep conversation, and his plans trumped Draco's.

Almost as soon as they met, Harry jumped right in and asked, "Draco, you know when you first started helping me with our spell work, you told me Hogwarts did not teach magical morals classes anymore, and that purebloods from noble houses like yours did… that's how you knew about the elements of souls in magic, with relation to conjuration verses summons, right?"

Draco nodded, and Harry paused, unsure how to continue, but needing to, so he could open this topic. But, he needed to know what else he might have missed, and how Draco felt about it. Especially how Draco felt about it as, considering just how badly it had gone when Slughorn opened his gob, he was kind of glad that soul magic was off the curriculum. But morals, though… that could have been useful. Maybe. What were the 'magical morals' Draco knew? He had said in his interview that he did still believe in some of the ideals he was raised with, and it was time now for Harry to learn which ones.

"What else were you tutored that was not taught at Hogwarts? And, can you tell me more about those magical moral lessons?"

Draco paled. While he had been hoping to subtly teach some of the pureblood beliefs of the noble classes, as opposed to those less traditional beliefs held by blood traitors, Draco had really not wanted to hold this conversation. Certainly not this soon, at least, if it had to be done. This conversation, if Harry was not invested enough, could end their relationship.


	24. and night

**And Night**

Draco sat, rather more heavily than was the usual for him, and breathed out in a low sigh. "If I am going to tell you this, I will have to start with the faults of the teachings at Hogwarts, you do know this right?"

Harry's eyebrows scrunched up. "Faults?"

"Well, yes; holes in the curriculum, poor teachers, the biased House system, and the like. The flaws and faults that are the reason I had to have a private tutor even after entering Hogwarts. The reason I know these things and you do not."

Harry's face cleared of its confusion, and he looked interested. "Fine, start wherever you need to start."

"Very well. First flaw is the House system itself, it was deliberately antagonistic and isolationist, forcing a House verses House attitude not just amongst students, but also staff. I know how often you complained about Severus being prejudiced in favor of Slytherins, and I also know for a fact he did grade our House up for at least one-third of our House." Harry interrupted with a noise of protest, shocked at this admittance.

Draco ignored him, and continued on blithely. "I also know that at least one-third of our House was intentionally graded down in every single other class." His tone changed, showing his annoyance, even now, of that event. "And, in the cases of all the Slytherins tried as Death Eaters from our age group, I can prove it; the Ministry actually took all of our past schoolwork to study and keep on record as evidence – with the teacher's notes, and grade marks and all."

Harry was shocked and appalled; but he didn't doubt that statement at all. He knew how ludicrous the Ministry could be in its demands, plus, if Draco claimed something was in public record he'd look like a fool if someone went to check and it wasn't. Draco would never intentionally make himself look a fool. Thus, the classwork was there, and it did prove his claims.

"Now, one class grading up one House hardly makes up for every other class grading down the same single House, but it was a step. A far better step, however, would either be scrapping *all* the teaching staff that learned at Hogwarts, and bringing in staff completely unbiased to the House system, and changing it drastically at the same time. That would encourage the students to focus on learning as opposed to fighting amongst themselves, and would likewise focus the teachers on doing their jobs rather than pushing a stupid and malicious stereotype." Sadly, Harry had to agree. He also knew it would never happen.

"But, this means that at least in potions, you would have needed a tutor to match with me anyways, but as I had biases to fight, in all other subjects, I was far more likely to need one. Understand now how that ties in?" Harry nodded mutely.

"Also, there instructors were lacking very often. I know you love him, but Hagrid for example – never even graduated, much less earned a more advanced degree." Harry went to protest, saying something along the lines of him not being the ignorant half-breed Draco took him for. Draco smiled, remembering exactly from where that quote originated.

"Even after being booted from Hogwarts, which I never did learn the reason for; he could have taken a tutor, or attended another school, and finished his education. He chose not to; that is why I call him ignorant. Stupid and ignorant do not mean the same, you know." He added this last when Harry once again went to protest belligerently. The green eyed man subsided, but with an annoyed expression, and mild glare set upon his face. "As such, the things he chose to teach us hands-on were not things students should have been exposed to, and the book learning and written exams far too limited."

"Then," continued Draco, "there were the innumerably Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers – did you know only one out of our entire education was actually a Professor?"

"Really? Which one? It wasn't Quirrell, was it?" Harry asked, curiosity peaked.

"No, actually," Draco drawled, enjoying this immensely. Too much so to not take advantage and draw it out. "Believe it or not, the Professor in question received a Muggle degree in Literature; it was Lupin." Harry blinked, astounded. This was something new to tell Teddy! "Of course, Literature still has absolutely nothing to do with DADA; and your history as written in the papers aside, he was not a very good teacher to the rest of the school. What he taught you he could have offered to others, and the little he offered in classes, admittedly still more and better than any of our other DADA teachers, could likewise have improved."

Harry wanted to argue, he really did, but… even with that cow, would he have had to teach the DA if Lupin had offered to everyone what was offered to him, or if he had been a better professor? After all, the ONLY spell he learned from Lupin that no one else did was the Patronus, and he managed to teach it to everyone, so Lupin surely could have. And, every other spell he covered in his lessons was one he had learned in class – which, had classes been sufficient, the club wouldn't have needed to exist to practice. Umbridge, while she did screw up the new spells they should have learned that year, had no bearing on the past. He didn't want to admit it, but sadly, it was true.

"Or our History of Magic, taught by a ghost that was unaware he was a ghost, and as such unable to track the passage of time. He repeated the same lecture – the lecture he died giving, for every single class period, regardless of year placement of the attending class, House of the attending class, or time of the school year the class in session was. A separate teacher had to make the syllabus, assign books, homework, grade homework, and tests – one never formally introduced to the students at all. If you did not ignore him completely, and just self-study; you learned NOTHING of magical history. How does this help anyone – pureblood, blood traitor, Muggleborn, half-blood, anyone? All it does is steal our traditions, by stealing the knowledge of them." Draco was particularly bitter during this mini-rant.

"I could continue, but I think, for the most part, you get the idea. The staff was lacking."

"Yes, I get the point." Emphatically. It was starting to get repetitive, in fact; not that he'd complain that it was so – Draco would get annoyed at him.

"Lastly, we have the faults in the curriculum. Obviously I was taught magical morals – the subject that sparked all of this, which was not offered, but there were other subjects that were also not offered, or had been in the past, but are no longer." Again, since Harry knew some things, like Horcruxes, were exceedingly dangerous for the public to know about, he did not necessarily think dropping certain lessons was a bad thing. But, he did not know what all Draco was talking about, so there was a chance it was.

"How about lessons on household magics? Or adjusting the Transfiguration lessons to ones more useful in life – how often, after all, will you really need to turn a rat into a jeweled goblet? Also, the murder and necromancy element of that class really does need to be fully explained to people, before they start using those skills indiscriminately…Perhaps ancient runes might be better understood if someone learned the language rather than just a few of the meanings of the runes? Or the history of the cultures behind them – especially since every rune, in addition to being a letter and a word and a symbol, was also usually associated with a God or Goddess?"

"What?" Harry's eyebrows were once again scrunched; he hadn't even taken runes, so he was more confused than ever.

"Runes, each single one, have multiple aspects, and every time a rune is used, it may represent a single aspect, or it may represent any combination of them – up to including all aspects. Thus, in using runes in magic, or in translating runic writings, or attempting to understand a past runic ceremony, if you do not understand all the aspects, you are not getting the full effect. In fact, there may be a great many unintended consequences. For example, there is a documented case of a woman attempting a fertility rite for her and her husband, as they were having difficulties conceiving an heir. She drew the circle, and all the runes, without fully understanding them, and cursed herself to never ending pregnancies – her corpse had to be burned after she died, as even in death she continued to conceive. That's how Infiri first came into being. Now they are just reanimated dead."

Harry paled. He remembered Infiri. Occasionally, they still featured in his nightmares, reaching for him and Dumbledore. Yes, if that is what happens when runes go wrong, they definitely needed to be taught correctly!

"Astronomy and Divination are obviously tied coursed, much like Charms ties with DADA as well as Transfiguration, but did you know Astronomy and Runes also have ties? Or, how about teaching how Herbology can help with Potions? And, not too surprisingly, vice versa… after all, not all Potions are actually Potions… there's also creams, vapors, poultices, and so on… and a few of the stronger and more effective magical pest repellants actually qualify. So do some of the more common magical house cleaners – which for underage children with chores, become a rather necessary part of life. Classes on cross-knowledge and cross-usage of overlaps could only help students with understanding Magic as a whole."

Harry thought about that. Granted, he grew up with Muggles, but, he did know doing chores by hand rather than by spell. So what if some of the more magical messes, which might require stronger means than Muggle soap to remove, weren't apart of his first ten years? He did remember spraying for Doxies at Grimmauld Place during summer! He didn't, however, remember ever seeing the spray in his Potions class… and he could really have used that, since then Mrs. Weasley could have just brewed more rather than buying it.

He could see how knowing this could be of a great deal of use.

"Then, there are the morals classes, which were just dropped entirely. You know how we talked about conjured animals having no souls, but summoned living animals having one? Well, not only does that make a difference when your spell kills the animal – as to whether it is murder or not, but it makes a difference as to what counts as killing, and if what you are doing can count as necromancy. For example, in transfiguration, when you change a rat, living, into a goblet, not living, what happens to its soul? It becomes trapped in a non-living item, but its body is now, in effect, dead. Murder. When you change it back, you are changing a non-living item into a living one, and replacing its soul into a new, living body. Resurrection. You are, in effect, performing Necromancy."

Harry blinked, and reaching out to touch Draco's arm, stopped him from continuing. "How do the rats not end up Infiri or.. um.. Vampires or something? Isn't Necromancy a Dark Art? How can this not be taught at Hogwarts, if only to prevent accidental creation of monsters?"

Draco smiled a dark smile. "Well, that is one of the hearts of what makes a Pureblood noble's training different from a Blood Traitor. Blood Traitors separate magic into types that we don't really recognize as existing, and try to regulate them accordingly. We, on the other hand, recognize intent, and teach morals for usage. After all, the same charm that was created, and is counted as a 'Light' spell for breaking up boulders to make road building easier is now most often used for breaking bones in magical duels. Yet the spell for cutting in magical duels is counted as 'Dark' and regulated, when it could just as easily be used for tending the grass in a lawn. Intent, and judgment, for all magic can be evil if used for evil, just as all magic could be holy if used as such. Mostly, though, the world itself is somewhere in the middle, and so is most uses of almost every spell."

Pausing, he saw Harry frown. He knew, of course, that Voldemort had subscribed to this teaching, received by his Slytherin counterparts rather than his Hogwarts instructors, before he went insane. To a point, he still subscribed to it then, as well, however due to his insanity he was mostly evil so his choices for magic uses were almost always evil.

It was a shame he went insane long before Draco was ever born; same for Harry. Otherwise, he would never have attacked the infant Harry, both wars would never have happened, and most of the crap Draco was having to do while rebuilding the fortune that would not have been destroyed would already have been done. Oh, and the British magical population would be three times what it currently was; two wars in two generations just decimated the numbers – and not just in Witches and Wizards.

Harry, for his part, was grumbling. He knew Voldemort had said something to this effect, and Dumbledore had discredited it. Yet, at the same time, when he admitted he chose his placement in Gryffindor, Dumbledore said our choses make us who we are – shouldn't that also apply to magic? If so, wasn't that making what Draco was saying, well, **right?**

Seeing Harry thinking it through, but not outright objecting, Draco decided it was okay to continue. "You will not accidentally create a monster by Transfiguration of a living creature to an inanimate object; however, if you leave the Transfiguration for too long, the soul will depart, and when you later attempt to reverse it, you will either fail entirely or only be able to bring it to a conjured creature, rather than true living creature. Like all conjured creatures, it will be able to follow the natural instincts of that creature and obey any orders, but only for as long as it exists. Even if not vanished, it will eventually dissolve and break apart on its own. When it the result of a Transfiguration mishap, the breakdown is a bit more gruesome as it naturally breaks down into a corpse than will have rotted in accordance to how long it spent in inanimate form."

Harry gagged a little at the thought. He resolved to never again drink out of a jeweled goblet without first checking to see if it had been Transfigured into being – because drinking out of a rotting corpse was just disgusting.

"Actually, new spell invention is down in our generation from what it has been historically, and most new spells are coming from outside Great Britain, although there are some notable inventors here. I personally believe that the changes in our education are responsible for the stagnation." Harry wrinkled his nose a little. Yes, he was proud of the twins, especially George who continued on, even though it was hard without his brother, but the language! Did Draco absolutely have to sound like a prissy, ponce-y git? Undeterred, Draco continued, "Of course, some classes for later years on the necessary forms, and how to fill them out, for the Ministry on Potions, Charms, etc. for inventions, and on Muggle artifacts for Magical modification and use, might be useful as well."

"You can modify Muggle artifacts for Magical use! That's illegal!" Harry burst out.

"Yes, Harry, you can. It is only illegal if done without the proper licenses and if the use of it in any way risks breaking the Statue of Secrecy, or if it could be suspected of use in Muggle bating. A lot of the inventions we uses daily are adapted Muggle ones – or did you really think that the gas street lamps were entirely spell cast? How about the bathrooms? Yes, spells are involved, but so is the pipeworks, and I assure you, while Ancient Rome did invent the *idea* of indoor plumbing, and put it to use, it was in no way superior to what we currently use. Magical inventions and Muggle artifacts can, and should, be used together in our world."

"But what about your belief in so-called superiority of the Magical world over the Muggle?"

"I still have it. After all, *we* get the best of both. They are limited to only theirs. *We* get all the wonders and delights of our world, and any wonders of theirs we choose to enjoy. They can only experience the one." Draco was very serious about this, and he was hoping Harry could understand. After all, he DID believe Witches and Wizards were better… but that was only a source of pity (and sometimes scorn) for the Muggles whom were left out. He did not believe in genocide, or anything like it, even if the insane Dark Lord he was once forced to follow did.

It was still a negative enough ideal Harry might not be able to accept it.

For his part, Harry just snorted. He didn't really ascribe to this sort of thing at all; with their imaginations, which were much greater than those of most Witches and Wizards in Harry's experience, Muggles were not really limited to anything. But, he could see how someone like Draco might think that, and it was not worth the effort of trying to change him. At least he was willing to embrace that Muggles were not stupid, useless things that needed killing – unlike when he was a child. Someday he'd get over his superiority complex, or he wouldn't. It wasn't really hurting anyone now, so Harry was willing to just let it be.

"If you brought back a Morals class, what else would be taught?"

"Well, obviously the uses of Magic for ethical reasons – self-defense should be just that, for example, and not used in unprovoked attacks. The Necromancy debate would have to be covered, after all, is it truly evil or not can be a truly personal decision, as well as an incidental one."

"Incidental?"

"Yes; as in: per instance, not as in something of secondary importance." Harry had a blank look on his face. Draco resisted sighing. "I mean, that not every situation will be the same, so one moral or ethical judgment might not be universal. Sometimes something can be right thing to do, even when normally it would be the very last choice you would make."

"Another class that might be a good idea would be a bridge class to either institutions of secondary education, like trade schools or universities, and also for students seeking Masteries, to help them locate and apply for Apprenticeships so they might begin the process. I would also have part of the class a sort of career guidance, as some students need help choosing their future paths, and knowing what classes will help or hinder, and which ones will do absolutely nothing either way, as they prepare for that future."

Harry nodded, remembering when the fake Moody recommended him for the Auror path, and he told Professor McGonagall, how she had to explain which classes were required, and what scores were needed. He really did not have any ideas before that suggestion, and outside of it, he had none either. Even if he had, he would not have known how to go about accomplishing them. The twins were just very lucky, as well as brilliant, that their ideas worked out. If the shop hadn't done as well as it had; what could they have done for a living once self-employment went bust?

"Of course, there are not many schools for secondary education, not Magical ones, in Great Britain; which forces our education to suffer as those who cannot afford to go abroad to study either must go Muggle or go without. I'm starting to work on that with some of my charities."

Clarity reached Harry in a rush of understanding. "You're making the changes Purebloods want right under the Ministry's nose!"

"Yes, I am." Draco's voice was calm, even, and certain. There was no reason to hide or to lie.

Harry got up, and turned to walk away. "I, I have to think. I'll see you." And with a quick burst of apparation, he disappeared.


	25. choice

"You know, Harry, in the past you've put up with a lot. With Cho, when you first went after her, she was in love with Cedric, and even though you admired him, you still went for it. When she turned you down in favor of him, you respected that, and backed off, but still cared. After he died, and you gave her some time, you pursued her once more. She was still in love with him, and still comparing you to his memory, and even though she cried through your first kiss, that wasn't enough to put you off your relationship. No, it was her defending her friend, Mariposa, who betrayed us that ended that. Then there was Ginny." Hermione, paused in her lecture to see if Harry was listening.

He was, though it was obvious he didn't really understand where this was going.

"With Ginny, it was never clear if it was you or the idea of you she loved. After all, she was a fan girl first, then the girl you saved, and even when she went through her speed-dating phase, she always compared her current boyfriend to you, to their detriment. While you were, indeed Ron's, her older brother's, friend, she didn't really know you until after you started dating. She became a Quiddich player, and eventually took your place as Seeker, mostly to impress you. But, did she ever really love Harry, or just The-Boy-Who-Lived? I don't think she even knew, really; and that's why she started drinking."

Harry looked both horrified and infuriated.

"Still, with her in a coma, and unlikely to ever wake, it's almost like she died, rather than you breaking up, and you never really got that true closer from a break up. Worse still, even though she is alive, because it is like she's dead; you're doing like most people do for a dead loved one and glossing over the bad parts, and idealizing the good memories. Then you're comparing those idealized memories to anyone else that tries to earn a place in your heart."

Harry started to protest, but Hermione just held up a hand, and said, "Let me finish before you argue, Harry." He subsided, reluctantly.

"Now, not only are you in your first relationship with a man, it is with a former enemy whom just told you he was still following the very ideals that made him your enemy in the first place. Yes, his following those ideals is doing a lot of good for the whole of the magical community, not just the Purebloods, but the principal is still there are you're conflicted. Take some time. Think about whether the ends are worth the principals to you, or if you want him to stop. Think about if you want to continue courting him either way – because those are your options; courting him as things are now, courting him but trying to change him into what you see as right, or stopping the courting process altogether. Just take the time to think about it clearly, though Harry, because you are not the only one who will have to live with the consequences of your choice; Draco will too." She paused, and a strange look passed over her face for a moment.

"I don't think I should really be the one to tell you this, Harry; Draco should, but under the circumstances … Draco has already chosen you. Not the boy-who-lived; he hated him. You, Harry. I think you should bear that in mind too, while you decide. After all, the mating isn't complete yet, Draco can change his mind. Draco knows what he wants and needs, and if you can't provide that, he will be forced to find someone else that will, irregardless of his feelings for you." Hermione paused again, and this time Harry stopped her.

"I know I asked you for advice, Hermione, but I wasn't expecting a lecture." He gave a short bark of laughter, one that sounded just a tiny bit forced. "Maybe I should have been, considering it's you."

Hermione laughed quietly. She knew how Ron and Harry tended to see her, and it didn't bother her too much most days.

"Mostly I just wanted to hear whether you thought I should be informing the Wizengamot that he was violating the terms of his probation and rehabilitation; by actively pursuing the Pureblood agenda. I still am not sure if I should or not. As you said, he's helping all the magical community, including Muggleborns and magical beings, not just Purebloods. If that is all he hangs onto, and not the murderous ravings, is that even something that should be stopped and punished?" He turned to her, his face clearly showing his inner turmoil.

Hermione hummed. "I already knew. I put the pieces together a while ago, Harry. So, no, I don't think it is worth reporting him and setting us back decades instead of taking the leaps forward he's helping achieve. But, like I already said, this is something you have to decide for yourself. What do you think and feel about his actions and plans? Can you live with them? I can't decide that for you, Harry. You have to chose for yourself."

Harry nodded morosely, and went back to sipping his tea and visiting with his friend, complicated topics abandoned for now.


	26. counterchoice

Draco absently stroked Bribes with one hand, while tapping the fluffy end of his quill against his chin with the other. It had been a few weeks since Harry left so suddenly, and he still had heard nothing from the man. This morning Draco had woken coughing up blood. It was past time for him to be mated, if symptoms were starting to appear.

Draco knew who he wanted. But, this was not his first big screw up or his first time hurting Draco. Unfortunately, everyone else had already been eliminated. It was time to open up the courtship again and accept new suitors. Worse, since there was now a time limit, drastic measures had to be taken to make certain his mating happened quickly.

It was time to hold the contest Nadine had told him about – the Blessing of the Goddess. Sighing, Draco tapped his chin again. If only he knew how to word the press release or when to hold the ceremony... It was a challenge usually issued to a single suitor, not to many, but it was designed to prove the suitor to be the soul mate beyond a shadow of a doubt.

It also broke the courting rules of the House of Potter rather spectacularly.

The suitor was to give an offering to the Goddess for Her blessing upon the mating, then find the Veela and mate. If successful, the blessing was granted. If not, then whomever did find and mate the Veela first was blessed instead.

Draco would effectively agree to marry whomever could get him into bed first; a little daunting for a virgin.

Then there was the question of where, exactly, he planned on hiding. He sighed once more, quill sliding from his hands, and leaning forward to rest his head upon his arms. This was a challenge he needed help with. He did not trust Nadine enough to ask her, and asking his mother to help him get lucky just seemed gauche. The only other person he could think of, besides the obvious of his lawyers whom no doubt would be involved in his hiding, was Hermione. She was now a human consultant on the Veela Counsel.

Yes. He would ask Hermione for help planning this ceremony and writing his press release. He lifted his head, and with a determined look, began to write.


	27. beginnings

It had been nearly a month since Harry had last seen Draco, and even though he had been thinking about little else, he was still torn. The morning was a little cool, so he was having hot oatmeal sweetened with a little syrup for breakfast. Orange juice and hot coffee finished out the meal, though normally he'd be having tea and pumpkin juice.

The screech of an owl interrupted his careful sips, and as he blew on a steaming spoon to cool it off, the post owl landed on the table next to him. It was waiting for him to drop a coin into its bag before releasing its paper for him to read. Harry took his bite, then dug out the coin and bought it. He normally did not buy the Quibbler, Hermione sent him a copy of hers if there was anything important, but over the last month, he had taken to reading them as a distraction.

This one was no distraction. Right there on front, waving and smiling broadly, and in full color was Draco. The headline was secondary for Harry, the picture having caught his eye so quickly. But, once he looked, the headline made his blood boil. "Courtship failed, Malfoy Heir to re-open Courtship" screamed at him.

Harry knew he shouldn't read this. This article would only hurt and upset him.

He pushed his oats aside and began to read.

_A few months ago, Draco Malfoy sat down with me, Marietta Edgecombe, in an exclusive interview. At the time, it was planned to be a one-time event. However, here today, my good readers, we have been graced with a second chance to pick our newest Veela's brains._

_**Marietta:** Draco, may I ask why you requested this interview?_

_**Draco: **It is simple, Marietta. Every suitor save Harry himself was unsuitable. However, I am unsure as to Harry's continued interest in pursuing a courtship with me. Therefore I have decided to open up the courtship again to new suitors – though with a bit of a twist this time. It will be both more and less complicated than the previous arrangements._

_**Marietta: **Why the doubt about Harry, Draco?_

_**Draco:** That is private and personal, so forgive me, but I will not be answering that question._

_**Marietta:** I understand, although our readers will be a bit disappointed. Can you explain the twist you mentioned in the courtships?_

_**Draco:** Certainly. I will be forgoing the Black rules and the majority of the Veela as well in favor of a ceremony Veela used when there was doubt about a suitor's true compatibility as a soul mate._

_**Marietta: **How interesting! Please tell me more about this ceremony and how it could resolve doubts about suitors._

_**Draco:** Traditionally, only one suitor participated, so I'm already changing things a little, but the basics will be the same. The suitor, or in this case suitors, petitioned the deity of their particular faith to bless the union with both offerings and prayers. _

_**Marietta: **That sounds very spiritual and like something they ought be doing in any case if religious. How does this help with choosing a partner?_

_**Draco:** Simple. The Veela also hides. If the suitor finds his Veela mate within one month, and successfully bonds, then the union was blessed. If not, the first person whom successfully finds and bonds with the Veela was the true mate all along, and will be the new spouse to the Veela._

_**Marietta: **Wow. That sounds like a really complicated game of hide and seek. Can you tell me what is involved in bonding with your mate when he finds you?_

_**Draco:** No. Because there will be more than one suitor hunting me, I'm making a few rules. One is that they cannot be told ahead of time what is required. Two is if they fail to meet the requirements, and I ask them to leave – they must, without telling any of the others where I am. Nadine will be placing secrecy spells upon all participants to insure this. Three is that once I am bonded, no negative words or actions come from the rejected suitors to my newly intended spouse. Fourth and this one most important, once bonded, I want to wed as soon as possible, within the week if at all achievable. _

_**Marietta:** That's some list! I see why you said this would be both more and less complicated than the old courtships were. May I ask why the hurry on the wedding? _

_**Draco:** Several reasons, the least invasive and only one I am willing to share is that I have already started showing symptoms of mate rejection, which can be fatal. To save my life I need to be bonded and married to my soul mate sooner rather than later._

_**Marietta: **That's terrible! For the readers not in the know, can you tell me a bit more about mate rejection in Veela, like why it is fatal?_

_**Draco:** The Veela with soul mate bonds are the only ones subject to mate rejection sickness, and it is fatal because without the love and care of their soul mate, the Veela's body begins attacking itself until it can no longer support its own life._

_**Marietta:** And the symptoms?_

_**Draco: **The symptoms vary a bit from Veela to Veela, from what I've been told. My main symptom is a bloody nose and some feathers falling out. That's as much personal information as I feel comfortable sharing, so may I draw this interview to a close?_

_**Marietta:** Of course, and thank you for letting us into your private life once again. It was my pleasure to speak to you, Draco, and good luck with your ceremony!_

Harry's knees felt weak. Draco doubted him? Well, after a month with no communication, perhaps that was reasonable. This, however, was not. Hide and seek with the winner marrying Draco? No, no. No one was getting Draco but him! Inner conflict gone, replaced by determination, Harry grabbed quill and parchment, intent upon writing Nadine and asking to participate, even willing to have her spells placed upon him.

He also thought about asking Luna for advice, as he clearly was going to have to do some grovelling when he found Draco.

And Harry was certain he already knew just where to find Draco. It was the last place anyone else would ever look. _Constellations._


	28. Middle

Harry went to Nadine first thing. There was a line, longer than the one he used to stand in waiting for the strip club to open. When it was finally his turn, her door was almost slammed in his face. "Wait!" Harry cried. "I'm ready to find him, bond him, and marry him. I'm ready to accept all of him. You and I both know he's chosen me, you can't keep me from him, I'll find him anyway!"

Nadine scoffed, but opened the door the rest of the way from when she'd nearly closed it. "Prove it," she challenged.

"I'm here." He stated firmly.

"Do you know what is needed? What you are to do?"

"I do. I'm here to tell you about my plans for prayer and offerings, and then go after Draco. Once I find him, I'll bond him. Then he's mine, and we'll marry that day, if I have my way."

"And you won't run from him again? Or lie to him at another's behest, even mine?" She glared, as if to stare into Harry's soul and judge the truth of his words.

"I won't. He may be a git, and a prejudiced git at that, but he's a good man at heart and doing good things. More importantly though – he's MY git."

Nadine laughed delightedly. The musical sound died off eventually, though, ad after a deep breath, and with a knowing smile she asked, "So what are your plans, then?" So Harry told her.

A day later found him on his knees at the alter of church. It was, of course, a Church of England and not a Catholic, and empty this time of day during the workweek. Coin, of course, could be given as an offering at the church, but Harry thought something related to marriage might be more appropriate. Had a Catholic church been involved, a donated statue to the saint of Marriage (whomever that was) might have been a worthy choice. As it was, Harry was donating a new wing – for a wedding chapel, in Draco's name.

After a couple hours negotiations, paper signings, and the like, he was let go. Fortunately, the sun was just going down so the doors to _Constellations _ought be just opening. Perfect timing to go get his Veela.

Sure enough, just after his magically speedy arrival, the door was opened, the lights shining out as the crowd pressed forward and in. The same doorman/bouncer was there, and Harry waited impatiently for his chance to speak to the man. When he approached the door, finally, he flashed his white card and asked "Is the owner in again?"

"Not tonight," was the bored reply.

""Will he be here tomorrow?" Harry asked, surprised and worried.

"No."

"When will he be in next?"

"Look," the doorman looked Harry in the eyes for the first time in the conversation. "I read the papers. I know you know who he is, and I know what you're looking for. He isn't here. I don't know when he'll be back. Good guess but no dice, good luck elsewhere buddy." With that, the bouncer turned to the person behind Harry, and continued one with his job, ignoring Harry standing there, stunned.

After a little while, Harry went home to think. Eventually, like most people, he slept. But dawn the next morning found him flooing Malfoy Manor, to talk to Narcissa, whom was sure to know where her son was, and not be under any blocks against talking like the other competitors/suitors were. Also, she was the same mother that saved Harry's life once just for information about her son, so she might be willing to give out her information for his well-being.

Or so Harry hoped.

The realities were slightly harsher, once he was granted entrance and asked.

A house elf let him in, led him to a small parlor filled with lovely furniture, some of which Harry recognized from his brief visit to Draco's furniture store. He suspected the entire thing was furnished by Draco. Mrs. Malfoy was drinking tea. She did not offer Harry any. After a few moments of silence, Mrs. Malfoy looked at Harry with one delicate eyebrow raised, which was all the encouragement he needed to stammer out his request.

"You want me to tell you, the man whom twice, twice now, broke my Dragon's heart were exactly you may find Draco?"

"...Yes?"

"Why should I do such a thing? Why exactly should I believe **you** to be the best option for my son? What assurances can you give me that you will not break his heart again?"

"I love him, Mrs. Malfoy, and I believe he loves me. I can not promise eternal happiness, or that I won't make a mess of things nor can I ask him to promise the same. I can only promise that when all is said and done, he's got my heart and I will always come back to him and he will always come back to me."

"Alright." She said grudgingly. "That is all I require – an honest love." Then she smiled. She stood, ad began walking towards the door of the small parlor she had met with Harry in, at the doorway she paused, placed a hand on the jam, and glanced back. "Well, don't you want to meet with Draco?"

"HE'S HERE?!" Harry bolted up.

"Not exactly, Harry. But I can lead you to him."

Harry's green eyes began to gleam with excitement. "Thank you Mrs. Malfoy!" He jumped up, and all but ran the short distance to follow her.

The pair walked down an almost endless hallway, down a flight of stairs (thankfully stationary), and into a large open room that but for the restored chandelier and huge fireplace, he wouldn't have recognized. He felt more than a little apprehensive to be back in the room Hermione had been tortured.

"This fireplace is the only one in the world connected to Draco's Muggle apartment. That flat he found when he was looking for new ways to earn us money after the war is where he is hiding now. Either use this floo, or go the long way by foot, your choice."

Narcissa Malfoy had seen, and had little compassion for, Harry's discomfort, apparently. Harry straightened his shoulders and nodded. He walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a little of the green floo powder from a small dish on the mantle, and awaited her instructions. "Just say 'Draco's flat'."

He stepped into the fireplace, and said, "Draco's flat!" tossing down the powder, and disappearing in a flash of green fire.


End file.
